etree ee COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT THE LAND OF FOOTPRINTS BY STEWART EDWARD WHITE ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE AUTHOR AND TWO DRAWINGS BY PHILIP R. GOODWIN GARDEN CITY "NEW YORK DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 1912 Copyright, 1912, by Dovus.Lepay, Pace & ComMPANY All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign languages, including the Scandinavian f me ©ClLA328257 THE LAND OF FOOTPRINTS BY THE SAME AUTHOR a» Arizona Nights, The Blazed Trail, Blazed Trail Stories, The Cabin, Camp and Trail, The Claim Jumpers, Conjuror’s House, The Forest, The Rules of the Game, The Riverman, The Mystery (with Samuel Hopkins Adams), The Silent Places, The Westerners, The Adventures of Bobby Orde, The Mountains, The Pass, The Magic Forest, The Sign at Six. Those were the first wild lions I had ever seen. CHAPTER Il. III. IV. V. VI. VI. VIII. IX. CONTENTS On Booxs or ADVENTURE . . . AFRICA. |. Sta Won echt Tue CENTRAL Beh: i sais Tue First Camp Mempa Sasa ayia hae First Game Campi. oe 2 CUR EE ARCH! Veo ie foe Ma ae Ae) IVER UNGER 6) ee Oh ee PIRST ION hs) ek Lei PRG EA aT Maes SLRS G8 eet blige we Ni Lions AGAIN More Lions . On THE MANAGING OF A Bapink A Day on THE IsIoLa Tae, MAGN ANGE 2) eet ele [Ta en RU ae Ae ee ee 1 Neg te Ea ne In THE JUNGLE. . a ee (a2) The March to Meru Aye GPs eo a PUR SAE TNO TR ae (c) The Chiefs , (d) Out the Other Side Tue TANnA RIVER Divers ADVENTURES gees THE ‘Pana Tue RHINOCEROS ... ee Tue RuINocEeRos (Cineaied) MBE IPPO POO, 60) Bose. oe Tue BuFFALO 103 123 137 144 196 210 223 234 240 264 271 286 297 313 321 335 XXV. XXVI. XXXVI. XXVIII. XXIX. CONTENTS Tue BurFato (Continued) . . A FR AAS Gita INS BURP gala Ea AC VAISET CAT PEMA CN a Hee ceo iene ner tig RESIDENCE ATs UJAG) let eo ete CHAPTER DHE LAST io) wy) ern) sek) oe IAPRENDIXG Lari mm sete cy Oh ee online AppEnpux Ula ie Ves. oth oatrees Appenpix III Rian ei ArenpIx IV The American in Africa AprenDIx V The American in Africa 348 370 376 388 406 407 408 409 419 435 ILLUSTRATIONS “These were the first wild lions I had ever seen” . Frontispiece FACING PAGE “They sported a great variety of garments” “M’ganga, the headman, tall, fierce, big framed ead bony? On the march hte “The blankets they were es ae Me ee a8 turbans” . “The great tangled ee Hieriheheed? “Behind us marched the four gunbearers; then the ious ee Memba Sasa . Chanler’s reedbuck Jackson’s hartebeeste . The oryx . “The motionless dl ee oa a eae ae eS o’clock)”’ Notata gazelle “Tall, beautiful falls, pungin Bees cae set into the RORESte y<.) . sas “They broke through 4 a pais” “Tn an open grove of acacias, we itched o our tents “A great deal of time they spent before their tiny fires roasting meat and talking” Py Aan ens “Distributing “potio’ or rations to the men” On the Northern Guaso Nyero River “At this point far up in its youth, it was a fieridiy river” vii 38” 38” 39¥ 39v 42" 43 50 51° 62” 63 we 634 64 v 65. 80 v 8r y ILLUSTRATIONS The exact spot where the lioness fell, taken from the exact spot we crouched when we shot hee “T placed the little gold bead of my 405 Winchester whee I thought it would do the most good” . . The lioness that charged when I had only tes Sprineael and no gunbearer. Also Mavrouki and Memba Sasa . The lion we killed out of the band of eight after following them for hours . The safari lined up for roll cal Ripe P “With these three raw materials, M’ganga one hie men - to work” ch The maneless lion jalled on the feats Grevy’s Zebra : “That wonderful phenomenon, the eae henne of ie carrion birds” . Fundi oe “In a very short are we had left ‘the pining! aul were adrift in an ocean of grass” “By half an hour we had acquired a lane sete “The native quarters lying in the hollow”’ : ; ‘Tn short, it was a genuine, scientific, well-kept golf course” Meru. In the native quarters. Women grinding corn. “Tt resembles the rolling, beautiful downs of a first-class country club” . Meru oo) a) A “They were eal icolade mivayes' tae at" “Tt was as fine a panoramic view as one could { eae “Where we could eh i ens this was atop a ridge” . : ‘ M’booley and two of es wives . “They were dressed in grass skirts and eee gee EINER | viii rr6°4 1 Oy fi 146 147 “ 158 ¥ 159” 180 v 181 188 * . 189+ 232» 232 v 233. 233, 244 w 245 245% 252 ¥ 253 2531 . 250% 256 v ILLUSTRATIONS “On the slopes and in the bottoms were patches of sacri cent forest” . ' “Tn fact, the young ladies were ante coy aed Gaietioust Totos “The savages Eamieneed bp Vacnes in, coy Haught, At arrogant. They were fully armed” . “These chickens rode atop the loads” The Tana River . Bushbuck . A crocodile . Ward’s zebra . “The plains a etand os was beleacd a aud deve it rolled dense clouds of smoke” oe “These wart-hogs are most comical brutes”. A camp on the Thika River—a paused of the Tana. “The lioness was an unusually large one” : “At twelve feet from the wounded beast we siouped”™. Rhinoceros charging 4 “The beast’s companion petioed ny lake the dese body” “The rhinoceros . . . is one of Africa’s unbelievable animals” “At first the Seiveller is pleased and curious over rhinoceros” “And departed over the hill’’ “At the last camp we were in nothing but paint “The babies are astonishing and amusing creatures” “Descended the steep bank to the river’s edge”’ Seeeeeppopool on the Tana”: 2. 2. ek Ee yr al tle Man ME ot At the Hippo Pool . , : The dik-dik—smallest of ey : Typical African ant hills ix P< =- @& ILLUSTRATIONS “The name of the valley was Lengeetoto” ..... . The big bufialo-as he finally fell cas The head of the big buffalo that ae got Billy Herds of game at Juja “In the river bottom land. . . is a very ene vegetable and fruit garden” “Donya Sabuk—the Mountain i Buffaloes ihe: only landmark” . “Juja Farm” “McMillan and the AUyecia miles! “Squatting on their heels and pulling mechodse ee slowly at the weeds” bes. 2) “QOstriches at Long Juja”’ ana At Long Juja—a strictly utilitarian ben » oy THE LAND OF FOOTPRINTS THE LAND OF FOOTPRINTS I ON BOOKS OF ADVENTURE OOKS of sporting, travel, and adventure in countries little known to the average reader naturally fall in two classes — neither, with a very few exceptions, of great value. One class is perhaps the logical result of the other. Of the first type is the book that is written to make the most of far travels, to extract from adventure the last thrill, to impress the awestricken reader with a full sense of the danger and hardship the writer has undergone. ‘Thus, if the latter takes out quite an ordinary routine permit to go into certain districts, he makes the most of travelling in “‘closed territory,” implying that he has obtained an especial privilege, and has penetrated where few have gone before him. As a matter of fact, the permit is issued merely that the authorities may keep track of who is where. Anybody can get one. ‘This class of writer tells of shooting beasts at customary ranges 3 THE LAST FRONTIER of four and five hundred yards. I remember one in especial who airily and as a matter of fact killed all his antelope at such ranges. Most men have shot occasional beasts at a quarter mile or so, but not airily nor as a matter of fact: rather with thanks- giving and a certain amount of surprise. The gentleman of whom I speak mentioned getting an eland at seven hundred and fifty yards. By chance I happened to mention this to a native Africander. “Yes,” said he, “I remember that; I was there.” This interested me — and I said so. “‘He made a long shot,” said I. ‘“‘A good long shot,” replied the Africander. “Did you pace the distance?” He laughed. ‘‘No,” said he, “the old chap was immensely delighted. ‘Eight hundred yards if it was an inch!’ he cried.” *“How far was it?” “About three hundred and fifty. But it was a long shot, all right.” And it was! Three hundred and fifty yards is a very long shot. It is over four city blocks — New York size. But if you talk often enough and glibly enough of “four and five hundred yards,” it does not sound like much, does it? The same class of writer always gets all the thrills. 4 ON BOOKS OF ADVENTURE He speaks of “blanched cheeks,” of the “thrilling suspense,” and so on down the gamut of the shilling shocker. His stuff makes good reading: there is no doubt of that. The spellbound public likes it, and to that extent it has fulfilled its mission. Also, the reader believes it to the letter — why should he not? Only there is this curious result: he carries away in his mind the impression of unreality, of a country im- possible to be understood and gauged and savoured by the ordinary human mental equipment. It is interesting, just as are historical novels, or the copper-riveted heroes of modern fiction, but it has no real relation with human life. In the last analysis the inherent untruth of the thing forces itself on him. He believes, but he does not apprehend; he acknowledges the fact, but he cannot grasp its human quality. The affair is interesting, but it is more or less concocted of pasteboard for his amusement. Thus essential truth asserts its right. All this, you must understand, is probably not a deliberate attempt to deceive. It is merely the recrudescence under the stimulus of a brand-new environment of the boyish desire to bea hero. When a man jumps back into the Pleistocene he digs up some of his ancestors’ cave-qualities. Among these is the desire for personal adornment. His modern development of taste precludes skewers in the ears 5 THE LAST FRONTIER and polished wire around the neck; so he adorns himself in qualities instead. It is quite an engaging and diverting trait of character. The attitude of mind it both presupposes and helps to bring about is too complicated for my brief analysis. In itself it is no more blameworthy than the small boy’s pretence at Indians in the back yard; and no more praiseworthy than infantile decoration with feathers. In its results, however, we are more concerned. Probably each of us has his mental picture that passes as a symbol rather than an idea of the different continents. This is usually a single picture—a deep river, with forest, hanging snaky vines, ana- condas and monkeys for the east coast of South America, for example. It is built up in youth by chance reading and chance pictures, and does as well as a pink place on the map to stand for a part of the world concerning which we know nothing at all. As time goes on we extend, expand and modify this picture in the light of what knowledge we may ac- quire. So the reading of many books modifies and expands our first crude notions of Equatorial Africa. And the result is, if we read enough of the sort I describe above, we build the idea of an exciting dangerous, extra-human continent, visited by half- real people of the texture of the historical-fiction hero, who have strange and interesting adventures 6 ON BOOKS OF ADVENTURE which we could not possibly imagine happening to ourselves. This type of book is directly responsible for the second sort. The author of this is deadly afraid of being thought to brag of his adventures. He feels constantly on him the amusedly critical eye of the old-timer. When he comes to describe the first time a rhino dashed in his direction, he remembers that old hunters, who have been so charged hundreds of times, may read the book. Suddenly, in that light, the adventure becomes pitifully unimportant. He sets down the fact that “‘we met a rhino that turned a bit nasty, but after a shot in the shoulder decided to leave us alone.”” Throughout he keeps before his mind’s eye the imaginary audience of those who have done. He writes for them, to please them, to con- vince them that he is not “swelled head,” nor “cocky,” nor “fancies himself,” nor thinks he has done, been, or seen anything wonderful. It is a good, healthy frame of mind to be in; but it, no more than the other type, can produce books that leave on the minds of the general public any impression of a country in relation to a real human being. As a matter of fact, the same trouble is at the bottom of both failures. The adventure writer, half unconsciously perhaps, has been too much occupied in play-acting himself into half-forgotten boyhood Pd THE LAST FRONTIER heroics. The more modest man, with even more self-consciousness, has been thinking of how he is going to appear in the eyes of the expert. Both have thought of themselves before their work. This aspect of the matter would probably vastly astonish the modest writer. If, then, one is to formulate an ideal toward which to write, he might express it exactly in terms of man and environment. Those readers desiring sheer exploration can get it in any library: those in search of sheer romantic adventure can purchase plenty of it at any book-stall. But the majority want some- thing different from either of these. They want, first of all, to know what the country is like — not in vague and grandiose “‘ word paintings,” nor in strange and foreign sounding words and phrases, but in comparison with something they know. What is it nearest like — Arizona? Surrey? Upper New York? Canada? Mexico? Or is it totally different from anything, as is the Grand Canon? When you look out from your camp — any one camp — how far do you see, and what do you see? — mountains in the distance, or a screen of vines or bamboo near at hand, or what? When you get up in the morning, what is the first thing to do? What does a rhino look like, where he lives, and what did you do the first time one came at you? I don’t want you to tell 8 ON BOOKS OF ADVENTURE me as though I were either an old hunter or an admiring audience, or as though you were afraid somebody might think you were making too much of the matter. I want to know how you really felt. Were you scared or nervous? or did you become cool? Tell me frankly just how it was, so I can see the thing as happening to a common everyday human being. Then, even at second-hand and at ten thousand miles distance, I can enjoy it actually, humanly, even though vicariously, speculating a bit over my pipe as to how I would have liked it myself. Obviously, to write such a book the author must at the same time sink his ego and exhibit frankly his personality. The paradox in this is only ap- parent. He must forget either to strut or to blush with diffidence. Neither audience should be for- gotten, and neither should be exclusively addressed. Never should he lose sight of the wholesome fact that old hunters are to read and to weigh; never should he for a moment slip into the belief that he is justified in addressing the expert alone. His atti- tude should be that many men know more and have done more than he, but that for one reason or another these men are not ready to transmit their knowledge and experience. To set down the formulation of an ideal is one thing: to fulfil it is another. In the following pages 9 THE LAST FRONTIER I cannot claim a fulfilment, but only an attempt. The foregoing dissertation must be considered not as a promise, but as an explanation. No one knows better than I how limited my African experience is, both in time and extent, bounded as it is by East Equatorial Africa and a year. Hundreds of men are better qualified than myself to write just this book; but unfortunately they will not do it. iv IT AFRICA ‘ies LOOKING back on the multitudinous pictures that the word Africa bids rise in my memory, four stand out more distinctly than the others. Strangely enough, these are by no means all pictures of average country —the sort of thing one would describe as typical. Perhaps, in a way, they sym- bolize more the spirit of the country’ to me, for certainly they represent but a small minority of its infinitely varied aspects. But since we must make a start somewhere, and since for some reason these four crowd most insistently in the recollection, it might be well to begin with them. Our camp was pitched under a single large mi- mosa tree near the edge of a deep and narrow ravine down which a stream flowed. A semicircle of low mountains hemmed us in at the distance of several miles. ‘The other side of the semicircle was occupied by the upthrow of a low rise blocking off an horizon at its nearest point but a few hundred yards away. Trees marked the course of the stream; low scattered II THE LAST FRONTIER bushes alternated with open plain. The grass grew high. We had to cut it out to make camp. . Nothing indicated that we were otherwise situated than in a very pleasant, rather wide grass valley in the embrace of the mountains. Only a walk of a few hundred yards atop the upthrow of the low rise revealed the fact that it was in reality the lip of a bench, and that beyond it the country fell away in sheer cliffs whose ultimate drop was some fifteen hundred feet. One could sit atop and dangle his feet over unguessed abysses. For a week we had been hunting for greater kudu. Each day Memba Sasa and I went in one direction, while Mavrouki and Kongoni took another line. We looked carefully for signs, but found none fresher than the month before. Plenty of other game made the country interesting; but we were after a shy and valuable prize, so dared not shoot lesser things. At last, at the end of the week, Mavrouki came in with a tale of eight lions seen in the low scrub across the stream. The kudu business was about finished, as far as this place went, so we decided to take a look for the lions. We ate by lantern and at the first light were ready to start. But at that moment, across the slope of the rim a few hundred yards away, appeared a small group of sing-sing. These are a beautiful 12 AFRICA big beast, with widespread horns, proud and won- derful, like Landseer’s stags, and I wanted one of them very much. So I took the Springfield; and dropped behind the line of some bushes. The stalk was of the ordinary sort. One has to remain behind cover, to keep down wind, to make no quick move- ments. Sometimes this takes considerable manceu- vring; especially, as now, in the case of a small band fairly well scattered out for feeding. Often after one has succeeded in placing them all safely behind the scattered cover, a straggler will step out into view. Then the hunter must stop short, must slowly, oh very, very slowly, sink down out of sight; so slowly, in fact, that he must not seem to move, but rather to melt imperceptibly away. ‘Then he must take up his progress at a lower plane of eleva- tion. Perhaps he needs merely to stoop; or he may crawl on hands and knees; or he may lie flat and hitch himself forward by his toes, pushing his gun ahead. If one of the beasts suddenly looks very intently in his direction, he must freeze into no matter what uncomfortable position, and so remain an indefinite time. Even a hotel-bred child to whom you have rashly made advances stares no longer nor more intently than a buck that cannot make you out. I had no great difficulty with this lot, but slipped up quite successfully to within one hundred and 13 THE LAST FRONTIER fifty yards. There I raised my head behind a little bush to look. Three does grazed nearest me, their coats rough against the chill of early morning. Up the slope were two more does and two funny, fuzzy babies. An immature buck occupied the extreme left with three young ladies. But the big buck, the leader, the boss of the lot, I could not see anywhere. Of course he must be about, and I craned my neck cautiously here and there trying to make him out. Suddenly, with one accord, all turned and began to trot rapidly away to the right, their heads high. In the strange manner of animals, they had received telepathic alarm, and had instantly obeyed. Then beyond and far to the right I at last saw the beast I had been looking for. The old villain had been watching me all the time! The little herd in single file made their way rapidly along the face of the rise. ‘They were headed in the direction of the stream. Now, I happened to know that at this point the stream-canon was bordered by sheer cliffs. Therefore, the sing-sing must round the hill, and not cross the stream. By running to the top of the hill I might catch a glimpse of them somewhere below. So] started on a jog trot, trying to hit the golden mean of speed that would still leave me breath to shoot. This was an affair of some nicety in the tall grass. Just before I reached the 14 AFRICA actual slope, however, I revised my schedule. The reason was supplied by a rhino that came grunting to his feet about seventy yards away. He had not seen me, and he had not smelled me, but the general disturbance of all these events had broken into his early morning nap. He looked to me like a person who is cross before breakfast, so I ducked low and ran around him. The last I saw of him he was still standing there, quite disgruntled, and evidently in- tending to write to the directors about it. Arriving at the top, I looked eagerly down. The cliff fell away at an impossible angle, but sheer below ran out a narrow bench fifty yards wide. Around the point of the hill to my right — where the herd had gone—a game trail dropped steeply to this bench. I arrived just in time to see the sing- sing, still trotting, file across the bench and over its edge, on some other invisible game trail, to continue their descent of the cliff. The big buck brought up the rear. At the very edge he came to a halt, and looked back, throwing his head up and his nose out so that the heavy fur on his neck stood forward like a ruff. It was a last glimpse of him, so I held my little best, and pulled trigger. This happened to be one of those shots I spoke of —which the perpetrator accepts with a thankful and humble spirit. The sing-sing leaped high in the 15 THE LAST FRONTIER air and plunged over the edge of the bench. I sig- nalled the camp — in plain sight — to come and get the head and meat, and sat down to wait. And while waiting, I looked out on a scene that has since been to me one of my four symbolizations of Africa. The morning was dull, with gray clouds through which at wide intervals streamed broad bands of misty light. Below me the cliff fell away clear to a gorge in the depths of which flowed a river. Then the land began to rise, broken, sharp, tumbled, terrible, tier after tier, gorge after gorge, one twisted range after the other, across a breathlessly immeasur~ able distance. The prospect was full of shadows thrown by the tumult of lava. In those shadows one imagined stranger abysses. Far down to the right a long narrow lake inaugurated a flatter, alkali- whitened country of low cliffs in long straight lines. Across the distances proper to a dozen horizons the tumbled chaos heaved and fell. The eye sought rest at the bounds usual to its accustomed world — and went on. There was no roundness to the earth, no grateful curve to drop this great fierce country beyond a healing horizon out of sight. The im- mensity of primal space was in it, and the simplicity of primal things — rough, unfinished, full of mystery. There was no colour. The scene was done in slate gray, darkening to the opaque where a tiny distant 16 AFRICA rain squall started; lightening in the nearer shadows to reveal half-guessed peaks; brightening unexpect- edly into broad short bands of misty gray light slanting from the gray heavens above to the sombre tortured immensity beneath. It was such a thing as Gustave Doré might have imaged to serve as abiding place for the fierce chaotic spirit of the African wilderness. I sat there for some time hugging my knees, wait- ing for the men to come. The tremendous land- scape seemed to have been willed to immobility. The rain squalls forty miles or more away did not appear to shift their shadows; the rare slanting bands of light from the clouds were as constant as though they were falling through cathedral windows. But nearer at hand other things were forward. The birds, thousands of them, were doing their best to cheer things up. The roucoulements of doves rose from the bushes down the face of the cliffs; the bell bird uttered his clear ringing note; the chime bird gave his celebrated imitation of a really gentlemanly sixty-horse power touring car hinting you out of the way with the mellowness of a chimed horn; the bottle bird poured gallons of guggling essence of happiness from his silver jug. From the direction of camp, evidently jumped by the boys, a steinbuck loped gracefully, pausing every few minutes to look back, 17 THE LAST FRONTIER his dainty legs tense, his sensitive ears pointed toward the direction of disturbance. And now, along the face of the cliff, I began to make out the flashing of much movement, half glimpsed through the bushes. Soon a fine old-man baboon, his tail arched after the dandified fashion of the baboon aristocracy, stepped out, looked around, and bounded forward. Other old men followed him, and then the young men, and a miscellaneous lot of half-grown youngsters. The ladies brought up the rear, with the babies. These rode their mothers’ backs, clinging desperately while they leaped along, for all the world like the pathetic monkey “jockeys” one sees strapped to the backs of big dogs in circuses. When they had approached to within fifty yards, I remarked “hullo!” to them. Instantly they all stopped. Those in front stood up on their hind legs; those behind clambered to points of vantage on rocks and the tops of small bushes. They all took a good long look at me. Then they told me what they thought about me personally, the fact of my being there, and the rude way I had startled them. Their remarks were neither complimentary nor refined. The old men, in especial, got quite profane, and screamed excited billingsgate. Finally they all stopped at once, dropped on all fours, and loped away, their ridiculous long tails curved in a 18 AFRICA half arc. Then for the first time I noticed that, under cover of the insults, the women and children had silent- ly retired. Once more I was left to the familiar gentle bird calls, and the vast silence of the wilderness beyond. The second picture, also, was a view from a height, but of a totally different character. It was also, perhaps, more typical of a greater part of East Equatorial Africa. Four of us were hunting lions with natives — both wild and tame — and a scratch pack of dogs. More of that later. We had rum- maged around all the morning without any results; and now at noon had climbed to the top of a butte to eat lunch and look abroad. Our butte ran up a gentle but accelerating slope to a peak of big rounded rocks and slabs sticking out boldly from the soil of the hill. We made ourselves comfortable each after his fashion. ‘The gunbearers leaned against rocks and rolled cigarettes. ‘The savages squatted on their heels, planting their spears ceremonially in front of them. One of my friends lay on his back, resting a huge telescope over his crossed feet. With this he purposed seeing any lion that moved within ten miles. None of the rest of us could ever make out anything through the fear- some weapon. Therefore, relieved from responsibility by the presence of this Dreadnaught of a ’scope, we loafed and looked about us. This is what we saw: 19 THE LAST FRONTIER Mountains at our backs, of course —at some distance; then plains in long low swells like the easy rise and fall of a tropical sea, wave after wave, and over the edge of the world beyond a distant horizon. Here and there on this plain, single hills lay becalmed, like ships at sea; some peaked, some cliffed like buttes, some long and low like the hulls of battleships. ‘The brown plain flowed up to wash their bases, liquid as the sea itself, its tides rising in the coves of the hills, and ebbing in the valleys between. Near at hand, in the middle distance, far away, these fleets of the plain sailed, until at last hull-down over the horizon their topmasts disappeared. Above them sailed too the phantom fleet of the clouds, shot with light, shining like silver, airy as racing yachts, yet casting here and there exaggerated shadows be- low. The sky in Africa is always very wide, greater than any other skies. Between horizon and horizon is more space than any other world contains. It is as though the cup of heaven had been pressed a little flatter; so that while the boundaries have widened, the zenith, with its flaming sun, has come nearer. And yet that is not a constant quantity either. I have seen one edge of the sky raised straight up a few million miles, as though some one had stuck poles under its corners, so that the western heaven 20 AFRICA did not curve cup-wise over to the horizon at all as it did everywhere else, but rather formed the proscenium of a gigantic stage. On this stage they had piled great heaps of saffron yellow clouds, and struck shafts of yellow light, and filled the spaces with the lurid portent of a storm — while the twenty thousand foot mountains below, crouched whipped and insignificant to the earth. We sat atop our butte for an hour while H. looked through his ’scope. After the soft silent immensity of the earth, running away to infinity, with its low waves, and its scattered fleet of hills, it was with difficulty that we brought our gaze back to details and to things near at hand. Directly below us we could make out many different-hued specks. Look- ing closely, we could see that those specks were game animals. ‘They fed here and there in bands of from ten to two hundred, with valleys and hills between. Within the radius of the eye they moved, nowhere crowded in big herds, but everywhere present. A band of zebras grazed the side of one of the earth waves, a group of gazelles walked on the skyline, a herd of kongoni rested in the hollow between. On the next rise was a similar grouping; across the valley a new variation. As far as the eye could strain its powers it could make out more and ever more beasts. I took up my field glasses, and brought 2T ‘ THE LAST FRONTIER them all to within a sixth of the distance. After amusing myself for some time in watching them, I swept the glasses farther on. Still the same animals grazing on the hills and in the hollows. I continued to look, and to look again, until even the powerful prismatic glasses failed to show things big enough to distinguish. At the limit of extreme vision I could still make out game, and yet more game. And as I took my glasses from my eyes, and realized how small a portion of this great land-sea I had been able to examine; as I looked away to the ship-hills hull-down over the horizon, and realized that over all that extent fed the Game; the ever-new wonder of Africa for the hundredth time filled my mind — the teeming fecundity of her bosom. “Look here,” said H. without removing his eye from the ’scope, “‘just beyond the edge of that shadow to the left of the bushes in the donga — I’ve been watching them ten minutes, and I can’t make ’em out yet. They’re either hyenas acting mighty queer, or else two lionesses.”’ We snatched our glasses and concentrated on that important detail. To catch the third experience you must have journeyed with us across the “Thirst,”’ as the natives picturesquely name the waterless tract of two days 22 AFRICA and a half. Our very start had been delayed by a breakage of some Dutch-sounding essential to our ox wagon, caused by the confusion of a night attack by lions: almost every night we had lain awake as long as we could to enjoy the deep-breathed grum- bling or the vibrating roars of these beasts. Now at last, having pushed through the dry country to the river in the great plain, we were able to take breath from our mad hurry, and to give our attention to affairs beyond the limits of mere expediency. One of these was getting Billy a shot at a lion. Billy had never before wanted to shoot anything except a python. Why a python we could not quite fathom. Personally, I think she had some vague idea of getting even for that Garden of Eden affair. But lately, pythons proving scarcer than in that favoured locality, she had switched to a lion. She wanted, she said, to give the skin to her sister. In vain we pointed out that a zebra hide was very decorative, that lions go to absurd lengths in re- taining possession of their own skins, and other equally convincing facts. It must be a lion or nothing; so naturally we had to make a try. There are several ways of getting lions, only one of which is at all likely to afford a steady pot shot to a very small person trying to manipulate an over-size gun. That is to lay outa kill. The idea is to catch 23 THE LAST FRONTIER the lion at it in the early morning before he has departed for home. The best kill is a zebra: first, because lions like zebra; second, because zebra are fairly large; third, because zebra are very numerous. Accordingly, after we had pitched camp just within a fringe of mimosa trees and of red-flowering aloes near the river; had eaten lunch, smoked a pipe and issued necessary orders to the men, C. and I set about the serious work of getting an appropriate bait in an appropriate place. The plains stretched straight away from the river bank to some indefinite and unknown distance to the south. A low range of mountains lay blue to the left; and a mantle of scrub thornbush closed the view to the right. This did not imply that we could see far straight ahead, for the surface of the plain rose slowly to the top of a swell about two miles away. Beyond it reared a single butte peak at four or five times that distance. We stepped from the fringe of red aloes and squint- ed through the dancing heat shimmer. Near the limit of vision showed a very faint glimmering whit- ish streak. A newcomer to Africa would not have looked at it twice: nevertheless, it could be nothing but zebra. These gaudily marked beasts take queer aspects even on an open plain. Most often they show pure white; sometimes a jet black; only 24 AFRICA when within a few hundred yards does one dis- tinguish the stripes. Almost always they are very easily made out. Only when very distant and in a heat shimmer, or in certain half lights of evening, does their so-called “protective colouration” seem to be in working order, and even then they are always quite visible to the least expert hunter’s scrutiny. It is not difficult to kill a zebra, though sometimes it has to be done at a fairly long range. If all you want is meat for the porters, the matter is simple enough. But when you require bait for a lion, that is another affair entirely. In the first place, you must be able to stalk within a hundred yards of your kill without being seen; in the second place, you must provide two or three good lying-down places for your prospective trophy within fifteen yards of the carcass — and no more than two or three; in the third place, you must judge the direction of the prob- able morning wind, and must be able to approach from leeward. It is evidently pretty good luck to find an accommodating zebra in just such a spot. It is a matter of still greater nicety to drop him ab- solutely in his tracks. In a case of porters’ meat it does not make any particular difference if he runs a hundred yards before he dies. With lion bait even fifty yards makes all the difference in the world. C. and I talked it over and resolved to press Scally- od 25 THE LAST FRONTIER wattamus into service. Scallywattamus is a small white mule who is firmly convinced that each and every bush in Africa conceals a mule-eating rhinoc- eros, and who does not intend to be one of the number so eaten. But we had noticed that at times zebra would be so struck with the strange sight of Scallywattamus carrying a man, that they would let us get quite close. C. was to ride Scallywattamus while I trudged along under his lee ready to shoot. We set out through the heat shimmer, gradually rising as the plain slanted. Imperceptibly the camp and the trees marking the river’s course fell below us and into the heat haze. Inthe distance, close to the stream, we made out a blurred, brown-red solid mass which we knew for Masai cattle. Various little Thomson’s gazelles skipped away to the left wag- gling their tails vigorously and continuously as Nature long since commanded “'Tommies” to do. The heat haze steadied around the dim white line, so we could make out the individual animals. There were plenty of them, dozing in the sun. A single tiny treelet broke the plain just at the skyline of the rise. C. and I talked low-voiced as we went along. We agreed that the tree was an excellent landmark to come to, that the little rise afforded proper cover, and that in the morning the wind would in all likeli- hood blow toward the river. There were perhaps 26 AFRICA twenty zebra near enough the chosen spot. Any of them would do. But the zebra did not give a hoot for Scallywat- tamus. At five hundred yards three or four of them awoke with a start, stared at us a minute, and moved slowly away. They told all the zebra they happened upon that the three idiots approaching were at once uninteresting and dangerous. At four hun- dred and fifty yards a half dozen more made off at a trot. At three hundred and fifty yards the rest plunged away at a canter—all but one. He re- mained to stare, but his tail was up, and we knew he only stayed because he knew he could easily catch up in the next twenty seconds. The chance was very slim of delivering a knockout at that distance, but we badly needed meat, anyway, after our march through the Thirst, so I tried him. We heard the well-known plunk of the bullet, but down went his head, up went his heels, and away went he. We watched him in vast disgust. He cavorted out into a bare open space without cover of any sort, and then flopped over. I thought I caught a fleeting grin of delight on Mavrouki’s face; but he knew enough instantly to conceal his satis- faction over sure meat. There were now no zebra anywhere near; but since nobody ever thinks of omitting any chances in 27 THE LAST FRONTIER Africa, I sneaked up to the tree and took a per- functory look. ‘There stood another, providentially absent-minded, zebra! We got that one. Everybody was now happy. The boys raced over to the first kill, which soon took its dismembered way toward camp. C. and I care- fully organized our plan of campaign. We fixed in our memories the exact location of each and every bush; we determined compass direction from camp, and any other bearings likely to prove useful in finding so small a spot in the dark. Then we left a boy to keep carrion birds off until sunset; and returned home. We were out in the morning before even the first sign of dawn. Billy rode her little mule, C. and I went afoot, Memba Sasa accompanied us because he could see whole lions where even C.’s trained eye could not make out an ear, and the syce went along to take care of the mule. The heavens were ablaze with the thronging stars of the tropics, so we found we could make out the skyline of the distant butte over the rise of the plains. ‘The earth itself was a pool of absolute blackness. We could not see where we were placing our feet, and we were continually bring- ing up suddenly to walk around an unexpected aloe or thornbush. The night was quite still, but every once in a while from the blackness came rustlings, scamperings, low calls, and once or twice the startled 28 AFRICA barking of zebra very near at hand. The latter sounded as ridiculous as ever. It is one of the many incongruities of African life that Nature should have given so large and so impressive a creature the pet- ulant yapping of an exasperated Pomeranian lap dog. At the end of three quarters of an hour of more or less stumbling progress, we made out against the sky the twisted treelet that served as our landmark. Billy dismounted, turned the mule over to the syce, and we crept slowly forward until within a guessed two or three hundred yards of our kill. Nothing remained now but to wait for the day- light. It had already begun to show. Over be- hind the distant mountains some one was kindling the fires, and the stars were flickering out. The splendid ferocity of the African sunrise was at hand. Long bands of slate dark clouds lay close along the horizon, and behind them glowed a heart of fire, as on a small scale the lamplight glows through a metal- worked shade. On either side the sky was pale green-blue, translucent and pure, deep as infinity itself. The earth was still black, and the top of the rise near at hand was clear edged. On that edge, and by a strange chance accurately in the centre of illumination, stood the uncouth massive form of a shaggy wildebeeste, his head raised, staring to the east. He did not move; nothing of that fire and 29 THE LAST FRONTIER black world moved; only instant by instant it changed, swelling in glory toward some climax until one expected at any moment a fanfare of trumpets, the burst of triumphant culmination. Then very far down in the distance a lion roared. The wildebeeste, without moving, bellowed back an answer or a defiance. Down in the hollow an os- trich boomed. Zebra barked, and _ several birds chirped strongly. The tension was breaking not in the expected fanfare and burst of triumphal music, but in a manner instantly felt to be more fitting to what was indeed a wonder, but a daily wonder for all that. At one and the same instant the rim of the sun appeared and the wildebeeste, after the sudden habit of his kind, made up his mind to go. He dropped his head and came thundering down past us at full speed. Straight to the west he headed, and so disappeared. We could hear the beat of his hoofs dying into the distance. He had gone like a Warder of the Morning whose task was finished. On the knife-edged skyline appeared the silhouette of slim-legged little Tommies, flirting their tails, sniffing at the dewy grass, dainty, slender, confiding, the open-day antithesis of the tremendous and awe- some lord of the darkness that had roared its way to its lair, and to the massive shaggy herald of morn- ing that had thundered down to the west. 30 III THE CENTRAL PLATEAU OW is required a special quality of the imag- ination, not in myself, but in my readers, for it becomes necessary for them to grasp the logic of a whole country in one mental effort. The difficulties to me are very real. If I am to tell you it all in de- tail, your mind becomes confused to the point of mingling the ingredients of the description. The resultant mental picture is a composite; it mixes localities wide apart; it comes out, like the snake- creeper-swamp-forest thing of grammar - school South America, an unreal and deceitful impression. If, on the other hand, I try to give you a bird’s-eye view — saying, here is plain, and there follows up- land, and yonder succeed mountains and hills — you lose the sense of breadth and space and the toil of many days. The feeling of onward outward ex- tending distance is gone; and that impression so in- dispensable to finite understanding — “here am I, and what is beyond is to be measured by the length of my legs and the toil of my days.”? You will not 31 THE LAST FRONTIER stop long enough on my plains to realize their physi- cal extent nor their influence on the human soul. If I mention them in a sentence, you dismiss them in a thought. And that is something the plains them- selves refuse to permit you to do. Yet sometimes one must become a guide-book, and bespeak his reader’s imagination. The country, then, wherein we travelled begins at the sea. Along the coast stretches a low rolling country of steaming tropics, grown with cocoanuts, bananas, mangoes, and populated by a happy, half- naked race of the Swahilis. Leaving the coast, the country rises through hills. ‘These hills are at first fertile and green and wooded. Later they turn into an almost unbroken plateau of thorn scrub, cruel, monotonous, almost impenetrable. Fix thorn scrub in your mind, with rhino trails, and occasional open- ings for game, and a few rivers flowing through palms and narrow jungle strips; fix it in your mind until your mind is filled with it, until you are convinced that nothing else can exist in the world but more and more of the monotonous, terrible, dry, onstretching desert of thorn. Then pass through this to the top of the hills far inland, and journey over these hills to the highlana plains. Now sense and appreciate these wide seas of plains, 32 THE CENTRAL PLATEAU and the hills and ranges of mountains rising from them, and their infinite diversity of country — their rivers marked by ribbons of jungle, their scat- tered-bush and their thick-bush areas, their grass expanses, and their great distances extending far over exceedingly wide horizons. Realize how many weary hours you must travel to gain the nearest butte, what days of toil the view from its top will disclose. Savour the fact that you can spend months in its veriest corner without exhausting its pos- sibilities. Then, and not until then, raise your eyes to the low rising transverse range that bands it to the west as the thorn desert bands it to the east. And on these ranges are the forests, the great bewildering forests. In what looks like a grove lying athwart a little hill you can lose yourself for days. Here dwell millions of savages in an apparently un- touched wilderness. Here rises a snow mountain on the equator. Here are tangles and labyrinths, great bamboo forests lost in folds of the mightiest hills. Here are the elephants. Here are the swing- ing vines, the jungle itself. Yet finally it breaks. We come out on the edge of things and look down on a great gash in the earth. It is like a sunken kingdom in itself, miles wide, with its own mountain ranges, its own rivers, its own land- scape features. Only on either side of it rise the 33 THE LAST FRONTIER escarpments which are the true level of the plateau. One can spend two months in this valley, too, and in the countries south to which it leads. And on its farther side are the high plateau plains again, or the forests, or the desert, or the great lakes that lie at the source of the Nile. So now, perhaps, we are a little prepared to go ahead. The guide-book work is finished for good and all. There is the steaming hot low coast belt, and the hot dry thorn desert belt, and the varied immense plains, and the high mountain belt of the forests, and again the variegated wide country of the Rift Valley and the high plateau. To attempt to tell you seriatim and in detail just what they are like is the task of an encyclopedist. Perhaps more indirectly you may be able to fill in the picture of the country, the people, and the beasts. 34 IV THE FIRST CAMP UR very first start into the new country was made when we piled out from the little train standing patiently awaiting the good pleasure of our descent. That feature strikes me with ever new wonder — the accommodating way trains of the Uganda Railway have of waiting for you. One day, at a little wayside station, C. and I were idly exchang- ing remarks with the only white man in sight, killing time until the engine should whistle to a resumption of the journey. The guard lingered about just out of earshot. At the end of five minutes C. happened to catch his eye, whereupon he ventured to approach. “When you have finished your conversation,” said he politely, ‘‘we are all ready to go on.” On the morning in question there were a lot of us to disembark — one hundred and twenty-two, to be exact — of which four were white. We were not yet acquainted with our men, nor yet with our stores, nor with the methods of our travel. The train went off and left us in the middle of a high plateau, with —” 35 THE LAST FRONTIER low ridges running across it, and mountains in the distance. Men were squabbling earnestly for the most convenient loads to carry, and as fast as they had gained undisputed possession, they marked the loads with some private sign of their own. M’ganga, the headman, tall, fierce, big-framed and bony, clad in fez, a long black overcoat, blue put- tees and boots, stood stiff as a ramrod, extended a rigid right arm and rattled off orders in a high dy- namic voice. In his left hand he clasped a bulgy umbrella, the badge of his dignity and the symbol of his authority. The four askaris, big men too, with masterful high-cheekboned countenances, rushed here and there seeing that the orders were carried out. Expostulations, laughter, the sound of quarrelling rose and fell. Never could the combined volume of it all override the firecracker stream of M’ganga’s eloquence. We had nothing to do with it all, but stood a little dazed, staring at the novel scene. Our men were of many tribes, each with its own cast of features, its own notions of what befitted man’s performance of his duties here below. They stuck together each in its clan. A fine free individualism of personal adornment characterized them. Every man dressed for his own satisfaction solely. They hung all sorts of things in the distended lobes of their ears. 36 THE FIRST CAMP One had succeeded in inserting a fine big glittering tobacco tin. Others had invented elaborate topiary designs in their hair, shaving their heads so as to leave strange tufts, patches, crescents on the most unexpected places. Of the intricacy of these de- signs they seemed absurdly proud. Various sorts of treasure trove hung from them —a bunch of keys to which there were no locks, discarded hunting knives, tips of antelope horns, discharged brass car- tridges, a hundred and one valueless trifles plucked proudly from the rubbish heap. They were all clothed. We had supplied each with a red blanket, a blue jersey, and a water bottle. The blankets they were twisting most ingeniously into turbans. Beside these they sported a great variety of gar- ments. Shooting coats that had seen better days, a dozen shabby overcoats — worn proudly through the hottest noons — raggety breeches and trousers made by some London tailor, queer baggy home- mades of the same persuasion, or quite simply the square of cotton cloth arranged somewhat like a short tight skirt, or nothing at all as the man’s taste ran. They were many of them amusing enough; but some- how they did not look entirely farcical and ridiculous, like our negroes putting on airs. All these things were worn with a simplicity of quiet confidence in their entire fitness. And beneath the red 37 THE LAST FRONTIER blanket turbans the half-wild savage faces peered out. Now Mahomet approached. Mahomet was my personal boy. He was a Somali from the Northwest coast, dusky brown, with the regular clear-cut fea- tures of a Greek marble god. His dress was of neat khaki, and he looked down on savages; but, also, as with all the dark-skinned races, up to his white mas- ter. Mahomet was with me during all my African stay, and tested out nobly. As yet, of course, I did not know him. ““Chakula taiari,” said he. That is Swahili. It means literally ‘‘food is ready.” After one has hunted in Africa for a few months, it means also “‘paradise is opened,” “grief is at an end,” “joy and thanksgiving are now in order,” and similar affairs. Those two words are never forgotten, and the veriest beginner in Swahili can recognize them without the slightest effort. We followed Mahomet. Somehow, without or- ders, in all this confusion, the personal staff had been quietly and efficiently busy. Drawn a little to one side stood a table with four chairs. The table was covered with a white cloth, and was set with a beau- tiful white enamel service. We took our places. Behind each chair straight as a ramrod stood a neat khaki-clad boy. They brought us food, and pre- 38 ““M’ganga, the headman, tall, fierce, big framed and bony.” “They sported a great variéty of garments.” “The blankets they were twisting most ingeniously into turbans.” THE FIRST CAMP sented it properly on the left side, waiting like well- trained butlers. We might have been in a London restaurant. As three of us were Americans, we felt a trifle dazed. The porters, having finished the dis- tribution of their loads, squatted on their heels and watched us respectfully. And then, not two hundred yards away, four os- triches paced slowly across the track, paying not the slightest attention to us — our first real wild os- triches, scornful of oranges, careless of tourists, and rightful guardians of their own snowy plumes. The passage of these four solemn birds seemed somehow to lend this strange open-air meal an exotic flavour. We were indeed in Africa; and the ostriches helped us to realize it. We finished breakfast and arose from our chairs, Instantly a half dozen men sprang forward. Before our amazed eyes the table service, the chairs and the table itself disappeared into neat packages. M’ganga arose to his feet. “Bandika!” he cried. The askaris rushed here and there actively. *Bandika! bandika! bandika!” they cried re- peatedly. The men sprang into activity. was the Two or three surgical cases followed. Then a big Kavirondo rose to his feet. “Nini?” demanded F. “Homa — fever,”’ whined the man. F. clapped his hand on the back of the other’s neck. “T think,” he remarked contemplatively in Eng- lish, “that you’re a liar, and want to get out of carrying your load.” The clinical thermometer showed no evidence of temperature. “T’m pretty near sure you’re a liar,” observed F. in the pleasantest conversational tone and still in English, “but you may be merely a poor diagnos- tician. Perhaps your poor insides couldn’t get away 83 THE LAST FRONTIER with that rotten meat I saw you lugging around. We'll see.” So he mixed a pint of medicine. ““There’s Epsom salts for the real part of your trouble,” observed F., still talking to himself, “cand here’s a few things for the fake.” He then proceeded to concoct a mixture whose recoil was the exact measure of his imagination. The imagination was only limited by the necessity of keeping the mixture harmless. Every hot, biting, nauseous horror in camp went into that pint measure. “There,” concluded F., ‘‘if you drink that and come back again to-morrow for treatment, I’ll be- lieve you are sick.” Without undue pride I would like to record that I was the first to think of putting in a peculiarly nauseous gun oil, and thereby acquired a reputation of making tremendous medicine. So implicit is this faith in white man’s medicine that at one of the Government posts we were ap- proached by one of the secondary chiefs of the dis- trict. He was a very nifty savage, dressed for call- ing, with his hair done in ropes like a French poo- dle’s, his skin carefully oiled and reddened, his arm- lets and necklets polished, and with the ceremonial ball of black feathers on the end of his long spear. His gait was the peculiar mincing teeter of savage 84 ‘A great deal of time they spent before their tiny fires roasting meat and talking.” “Distributing ‘potio’ or rations to the men.” “At this point far up in its youth it was a friendly river.” —— ON THE MARCH conventional society. According to custom, he approached unsmiling, spat carefully in his palm, and shook hands. Then he squatted and waited. *“What is it?” we asked after it became evident he really wanted something besides the pleasure of our company. ““N’dowa — medicine,” said he. “Why do you not go the Government dispen- sary?” we demanded. “The doctor there is an Indian; I want real medi- cine, white man’s medicine,”’ he explained. Immensely flattered, of course, we wanted further to know what ailed him. ““Nothing,” said he blandly, “‘nothing at all; but it seemed an excellent chance to get good medicine.” After the clinic was all attended to, we retired to our tents and the screeching-hot bath so grateful in the tropics. When we emerged, in our mosquito boots and pajamas, the daylight was gone. Scores of little blazes licked and leaped in the velvet black- ness round about, casting the undergrowth and the lower branches of the trees into flat planes like the cardboard of a stage setting. Cheerful, squatted figures sat in silhouette or in the relief of chance high light. Long switches of meat roasted before the fires. A hum of talk, bursts of laughter, the crooning of minor chants mingled with the crack- 85 THE LAST FRONTIER ling of thorns. Before our tents stood the table set for supper. Beyond it lay the pile of firewood, later to be burned on the altar of our safety against beasts. The moonlight was casting milky shadows over the river and under the trees opposite. In those shadows gleamed many fireflies. Overhead were millions of stars, and a little breeze that wan- dered through upper branches. But in Equatorial Africa the simple bands of vel- vet black against the spangled brightnesses that make up the visual night world, must give way in interest to the other world of sound. The air hums with an undertone of insects; the plain and hill and jungle are populous with voices furtive or bold. In daytime one sees animals enough, in all conscience, but only at night does he sense the almost oppres- sive feeling of the teeming life about him. The dark- ness is peopled. Zebra bark, bucks blow or snort or make the weird noises of their respective species; hyenas howl; out of an immense simian silence a group of monkeys suddenly break into chatterings; ostriches utter their deep hollow boom; small things scurry and squeak; a certain weird bird of the cur- lew or plover sort wails like a lonesome soul. Es- pecially by the river, as here, are the boomings of the weirdest of weird bullfrogs, and the splashings and swishings of crocodile and hippopotamus. One is 86 ON THE MARCH impressed with the busyness of the world sur- rounding him; every bird or beast, the hunter and the hunted, is the centre of many important affairs. The world swarms. And then, some miles away a lion roars, the earth and air vibrating tothe sheer power of the sound. The world falls to a blank dead silence. For a full minute every living creature of the jungle or of the _ veldt holds its breath. Their lord has spoken. After dinner we sat in our canvas chairs, smoking. The guard fire in front of our tent had been lit. On the other side of it stood one of our askaris leaning on his musket. He and his three companions, turn about, keep the flames bright against the fiercer creatures. After a time we grew sleepy. I called Saa-sita and entrusted to him my watch. On the crystal of this I had pasted a small piece of surgeon’s plaster. When the hour hand reached the surgeon’s plaster, he must wake us up. Saa-sita was a very conscien- tious and careful man. One day I took some time hitching my pedometer properly to his belt: I could not wear it effectively myself because I was on horse- back. At the end of the ten-hour march it regis- tered a mile and a fraction. Saa-sita explained that he wished to take especial care of it, so he had wrap- ped it in a cloth and carried it all day in his hand! 87 THE LAST FRONTIER We turned in. As I reached over to extinguish the lantern I issued my last command for the day. “Watcha kalele, Saa-sita,” I told the askari; and at once he lifted up his voice to repeat my words. “Watcha kalele!”? Immediately from the Respon- sible all over camp the word came back—from gunbearers, from M’ganga, from tent boys — “‘kal- ele! kalele! kalele!”’ Thus commanded, the boisterous fun, the low croon of intimate talk, the gently rising and falling tide of melody fell to complete silence. Only re- mained the crackling of the fire and the innumer- able voices of the tropical night. | 83 VIII THE RIVER JUNGLE E CAMPED along this river for several weeks, poking indefinitely and happily around the country in all directions to see what we could see. Generally we went together, for neither B. nor my- self had been tried out as yet on dangerous game — those easy rhinos hardly counted — and I think we both preferred to feel that we had backing until we knew what our nerves were going to do with us. Nevertheless, occasionally, I would take Memba Sasa and go out for a little purposeless stroll a few miles up or down river. Sometimes we skirted the jungle, sometimes we held as near as possible to the rivers bank, sometimes we cut loose and rambled through the dry, crackling scrub over the low vol- canic hills of the arid country outside. Nothing can equal the intense interest of the most ordinary walk in Africa. It is the only country I know of where a man is thoroughly and continu- ously alive. Often when riding horseback with the dogs in my California home I have watched them 89 THE LAST FRONTIER in envy of the keen, alert interest they took in every stone, stick, and bush, in every sight, sound, and smell. With equal frequency I have expressed that envy, but as something unattainable to a human being’s more phlegmatic make-up. In Africa one actually rises to continuousalertness. There are no dozy moments — except you curl up in a safe place for the purpose of dozing; again just like the dog! Every bush, every hollow, every high tuft of grass, every deep shadow must be scrutinized for danger. It will not do to pass carelessly any possible lurking place. At the same time the sense of hearing must be on guard; so that no break of twig or crash of bough can go unremarked. Rhinoceroses conceal themselves most cannily, and have a deceitful habit of leaping from a nap into their swiftest stride. Cobras and puff adders are scarce, to be sure, but very deadly. Lions will generally give way, if not shot at or too closely pressed; nevertheless there is always the chance of cubs or too close a surprise. Buffalo lurk daytimes in the deep thickets, but oc- casionally a rogue bull lives where your trail will lead. These things do not happen often, but in the long run they surely do happen, and once is quite enough provided the beast gets in. At first this continual alertness and tension is rather exhausting; but after a very short time it be- go THE RIVER JUNGLE comes second nature. A sudden rustle the other side a bush no longer brings you up all standing with your heart in your throat; but you are aware of it, and you are facing the possible danger almost before your slower brain has issued any orders to that effect. In rereading the above, I am afraid that I am conveying the idea that one here walks under the shadow of continual uneasiness. This is not in the least so. One enjoys the sun, and the birds and the little things. He cultivates the great leisure of mind that shall fill the breadth of his outlook abroad over a newly wonderful world. But underneath it all is the alertness, the responsiveness to quick reflexes of judgment and action, the intimate corre- lations to immediate environment which must char- acterize the instincts of the higher animals. And it is good to live these things. Along the edge of that river jungle were many strange and beautiful affairs. I could slip along among the high clumps of the thicker bushes in such a manner as to be continually coming around un- expected bends. Of such manceuvres are surprises made. The graceful red impalla were here very abundant. I would come on them, their heads up, their great ears flung forward, their noses twitching in inquiry of something they suspected but could not fully sense. When slightly alarmed or suspicious gt THE LAST FRONTIER the does always stood compactly in a herd, while the bucks remained discreetly in the background, their beautiful, branching, widespread horns showing over the backs of their harems. The impalla is, in my opinion, one of the most beautiful and grace- ful of the African bucks, a perpetual delight to watch either standing or running. ‘These beasts are extraordinarily agile, and have a habit of breaking their ordinary fast run by unexpectedly leaping high in the air. At a distance they give somewhat the effect of dolphins at sea, only their leaps are higher and more nearly perpendicular. Once or twice I have even seen one jump over the back of another. On another occasion we saw a herd of twenty-five or thirty cross a road of which, evi- dently, they were a little suspicious. We could not find a single hoof mark in the dust! Generally these beasts frequent thin brush country; but I have three or four times seen them quite out in the open flat plains, feeding with the hartebeeste and zebra. They are about the size of our ordinary deer, are delicately fashioned, and can utter the most incon- gruously grotesque of noises by way of calls or or- dinary conversation. The lack of curiosity, or the lack of gallantry, of the impalla bucks was, in my experience, quite char- acteristic. They were almost always the farthest Q2 THE RIVER JUNGLE in the background and the first away when danger threatened. The ladies could look out for them- selves. ‘They had no horns to save; and what do the fool women mean by showing so little sense, any- way! They deserve what they get! It used to amuse me a lot to observe the utter abandonment of all responsibility by these handsome gentlemen. When it came time to depart, they departed. Hang the girls! They trailed along after as fast as they could. The waterbuck —a fine large beast about the size of our caribou, a well-conditioned buck resem- bling in form and attitude the finest of Landseer’s stags — on the other hand, had a little more sense of responsibility, when he had anything to do with the sex at all. He was hardly what you might call a strictly domestic character. I have hunted through a country for several days at a time with- out seeing a single mature buck of this species, al- though there were plenty of does, in herds of ten to fifty, with a few infants among them just sprouting horns. ‘Then finally, in some small grassy valley, I would come on the Men’s Club. There they were, ten, twenty, three dozen of them, having the finest kind of an untramelled masculine time all by them- selves. Generally, however, I will say for them, they took cure of their own peoples, There would 93 THE LAST FRONTIER quite likely be one big old fellow, his harem of vary- ing numbers, and the younger subordinate bucks all together in a happy family. When some one of the lot announced that something was about, and they had all lined up to stare in the suspected direction, the big buck was there in the foreground of inquiry. When finally they made me out, it was generally the big buck who gave the signal. He went first, to be sure, but his going first was evidently an act of leadership, and not merely a disgraceful desire to get away before the rest did. But the waterbuck had to yield in turn to the plains gazelles; especially to the Thompson’s gazelle, familiarly — and affectionately — known as the “Tommy.” He is a quaint little chap, standing only a foot and a half tall at the shoulder, fawn col- our on top, white beneath, with a black, horizontal stripe on his side, like a chipmunk, most lightly and gracefully built. When he was first made, some- body told him that unless he did something char- acteristic, like waggling his little tail, he was likely to be mistaken by the undiscriminating for his big- ger cousin, the Grant’s gazelle. He has waggled his tail ever since, and so is almost never mistaken for a Grant’s gazelle, even by the undiscriminating. Evidently his religion is Mohammedan, for he al- ways has a great many wives. He takes good care 94 THE RIVER JUNGLE of them, however. When danger appears, even when danger threatens, he is the last to leave the field. Here and there he dashes frantically, seeing that the women and children get off. And when the herd tops the hill, Tommy’s little horns bring up the rear of the procession. I like Tommy. He is a cheerful, gallant, quaint little person, with the air of being quite satisfied with his own solution of this compli- cated world. Among the low brush at the edge of the river jun- gle dwelt also the dik-dik, the tiniest miniature of a deer you could possibly imagine. His legs are lead pencil size, he stands only about nine inches tall, he weighs from five to ten pounds; and yet he is a perfect little antelope, horns and all. I used to see him singly or in pairs standing quite motionless and all but invisible in the shade of bushes; or leaping suddenly to his feet and scurrying away like mad through the dry grass. His personal opinion of me was generally expressed in a loud clear whistle. But then nobody in this strange country talks the language you would naturally expect him to talk! Zebra bark, hyenas laugh, impallas grunt, ostriches boom like drums, leopards utter a plaintive sigh, hornbills cry like a stage child, bushbucks sound like a cross between a dog and a squawky toy — and soon. There is only one safe rule for the nov- 95 THE LAST FRONTIER ice in Africa: never believe a word the jungle and veldt people tell you! These two —the impalla and the waterbuck — were the principal buck we would see close to the river. Occasionally, however, we came on a few oryx, down for a drink, beautiful big antelope, with white and black faces, roached manes, and straight, nearly parallel, rapier horns upward of three feet long. A herd of these creatures, the light gleaming on their weapons, held all at the same slant, was likea regiment of bayonets in the sun. And there were also the rhinoceroses to be carefully espied and avoided. They lay obliterated beneath the shade of bushes, and arose with a mighty blow-off of steam. Where- upon we withdrew silently, for we wanted to shoot no more rhinos, unless we had to. Beneath all these obvious and startling things, a thousand other interesting matters were afoot. In the mass and texture of the jungle grew many strange trees and shrubs. One most scrubby, fat and leaf- less tree, looking as though it were just about to give up a discouraged existence, surprised us by put- ting forth, apparently directly from its bloated wood, the most wonderful red blossoms. Another other- wise self-respecting tree hung itself all over with plump bologna sausages about two feet long and five inches thick. A curious vine hung like a rope, 96 THE RIVER JUNGLE with Turk’s-head knots about a foot apart on its whole length, like the hand-over-hand ropes of gymnasiums. Other ropes were studded all over with thick blunt bosses, resembling much the out- break on one sort of Arts-and-Crafts door: the sort intended to repel Mail-clad Hosts. The monkeys undoubtedly used such obvious highways through the trees. These little people Were very common. As we walked along, they withdrew before us. We could make out their figures galloping hastily across the open places, mounting bushes and stubs to take a satisfying backward look, clambering to treetops, and launch- ing themselves across the abysses between limbs. If we went slowly, they retired in silence. If we hurried at all, they protested in direct ratio to the speed of our advance. And when later the whole safari, loads on heads, marched inconsiderately through their jungle! We happened to be hunting on a parallel course a half mile away, and we could trace accurately the progress of our men by the out- raged shrieks, chatterings, appeals to high heaven for at least elemental justice to the monkey people. Often, too, we would come on concourses of the big baboons. They certainly carried on weighty affairs of their own according to a fixed polity. I never got well enough acquainted with them to 97 THE LAST FRONTIER master the details of their government, but it was indubitably built on patriarchal lines) When we succeeded in approaching without being discovered, we would frequently find the old men baboons squat- ting on their heels in a perfect circle, evidently dis- cussing matters of weight and portent. Seen from a distance, their group so much resembled the coun- cil circles of native warriors that sometimes, in a native country, we made that mistake. Outside this solemn council, the women, young men and children went about their daily business, what- ever that was. Up convenient low trees or bushes roosted sentinels. We never remained long undiscovered. One of the sentinels barked sharply. At once the whole lot loped away, speedily but with a curious effect of deliberation. ‘The men folks held their tails in a proud high sideways arch; the curious youngsters clambered up bushes to take a hasty look; the babies clung desperately with all four feet to the thick fur on their mothers’ backs; the mothers gal- loped along imperturbably unheeding of infantile troubles aloft. The side hill was bewildering with the big bobbing black forms. In this lower country the weather was hot, and the sun very strong. The heated air was full of the sounds of insects; some of them comfortable, 98 THE RIVER JUNGLE like the buzzing of bees, some of them strange and unusual to us. One cicada had a sustained note, in quality about like that of our own August-day’s friend, but in quantity and duration as the roar of a train to the gentle hum of a good motorcar. Like all cicada noises it did not usurp the sound world, but constituted itself an underlying basis, so to speak. And when it stopped the silence seemed to rush in as into a vacuum! We had likewise the aeroplane beetle. He was so big that he would have made good wing-shooting. His manner of flight was the straight-ahead, heap- of-buzz, plenty-busy, don’t-stop-a-minute-or-you’ll- come-down method of the aeroplane; and he made the same sort of a hum. His first-cousin, mechan- ically, was what we called the wind-up-the-watch insect. This specimen possessed a watch — an old-fashioned Waterbury, evidently — that he was continually winding. It must have been hard work for the poor chap, for it sounded like a very big watch. All these things were amusing. So were the birds. The African bird is quite inclined to be didactic. He believes you need advice, and he means to give it. To this end he repeats the same thing over and over until he thinks you surely cannot misunderstand. One chap especially whom we called the lawyer bird, 99 THE LAST FRONTIER and who lived in the treetops, had four phrases to impart. He said them very deliberately, with due pause between each; then he repeated them rapidly; finally he said them all over again with an exasper- ated bearing-down emphasis. The joke of it is I cannot now remember just how they went! An- other feathered pedagogue was continually warning us to go slow; very good advice near an African jungle. ‘‘Poley-poley! poley-poley!” he warned again and again; which is good Swahili for “slowly! slowly!” We always minded him. There were many others, equally impressed with their own wis- dom, but the one J remember with most amusement was a dilatory person who apparently never got around to his job until near sunset. Evidently he had contracted to deliver just so many warnings per diem: and invariably he got so busy chasing insects, enjoying the sun, gossiping with a friend, and generally footling about that the late afternoon caught him unawares with never a chirp accom- plished. So he sat in a bush and said his say over and over just as fast as he could without pause for breath or recreation. It was really quite a feat. Just at dusk, after two hours of gabbling, he would reach the end of his contracted number. With a final relieved chirp he ended. It has been said that African birds are “‘songless.”’ tO THE RIVER JUNGLE This is a careless statement that can easily be read to mean that African birds are silent. The writer evidently must have had in mind as a criterion some of our own or the English great feathered soloists. Certainly the African jungle seems to produce no individual performers as sustained as our own bob- o-link, our hermit thrush, or even our common robin. But the African birds are vocal enough, for all that. Some of them have a richness and depth of timbre perhaps unequalled elsewhere. Of such is the chime- bird with his deep double note; or the bell-bird toll- ing like a cathedral in the blackness of the forest; or the bottle bird that apparently pours gurgling liquid gold from a silver jug. As the jungle is ex- ceedingly populous of these feathered specialists, it follows that the early morning chorus is wonderful. Africa may not possess the soloists, but its full or- chestrial effects are superb. Naturally under the equator one expects and de- mands the “gorgeous tropical plumage” of the books. He is not disappointed. The sun-birds of fifty odd species, the brilliant blue starlings, the various par- rots, the variegated hornbills, the widower-birds, and dozens of others whose names would mean noth- ing flash here and there in the shadow and in the open. With them are hundreds of quiet little bod- ies just as interesting to one who likes birds. From’ Iot THE LAST FRONTIER the trees and bushes hang pear-shaped nests plaited beautifully of long grasses, hard and smooth as hand-made baskets, the work of the various sorts of weaver-birds. In the tops of the trees roosted tall marabout storks like dissipated, hairless old club- men in well-groomed, correct evening dress. And around camp gathered the swift brown kites. They were robbers and villains, but we could not hate them. All day long they sailed back and forth spying sharply. When they thought they saw their chance, they stooped with incredible swiftness to seize a piece of meat. Sometimes they would snatch their prize almost from the hands of its rightful owner, and would swoop triumphantly upward again pursued by polyglot maledictions and a throwing stick. They were very skilful on their wings. I have many times seen them, while flying, tear up and devour large chunks of meat. It seems to my inexperience as an aviator rather a nice feat to keep your balance while tearing with your beak at meat held in your talons. Regardless of other landmarks, we always knew when we were nearing camp, after one of our strolls, by the gracefully wheeling figures of our kites. 102 IX THE FIRST LION NE day we all set out to make our discoveries —F., B., and I with our gunbearers, Memba Sasa, Mavrouki, and Simba, and ten porters to bring in the trophies, which we wanted very much, and the meat, which the men wanted still more. We rode our horses, and the syces followed. This made quite a field force — nineteen men all told. Nineteen white men would be exceedingly unlikely to get within a liberal half mile of anything; but the native has sneaky ways. At first we followed between the river and the low hills, but when the latter drew back to leave open a broad flat, we followed their line. At this point they rose to a clifflike headland a hundred and fifty feet high, flat on top. We decided to investigate that mesa, both for the possibilities of game, and for the chance of a view abroad. The footing was exceedingly noisy and treacher- ous, for it was composed of flat, tinkling little stones. Dried-up, skimpy bushes just higher than our heads 103 THE LAST FRONTIER made a thin but regular cover. There seemed not to be a spear of anything edible, yet we caught the flash of red as a herd of impalla melted away at our rather noisy approach. Near the foot of the hill we dismounted, with orders to all the men but the gunbearers to sit down and make themselves com- fortable. Should we need them we could easily either signal or send word. Then we set ourselves toilsomely to clamber up that volcanic hill. It was not particularly easy going, especially as we were trying to walk quietly. You see, we were about to surmount a skyline. Surmounting’a sky- line is always most exciting anywhere, for what lies beyond is at once revealed as a whole and contains the very essence of the unknown; but most decidedly is this true in Africa. That mesa looked flat, and almost anything might be grazing or browsing there. So we proceeded gingerly, with due regard to the rolling of the loose rocks or the tinkling of the little pebbles. But long before we had reached that alluring sky- line we were halted by the gentle snapping of Mav- rouki’s fingers. ‘That, strangely enough, is a sound to which wild animals seem to pay no attention, and is therefore most useful as a signal. We looked back. The three gunbearers were staring to the right of our course. About a hundred yards away, on the steep 104 THE FIRST LION side hill, and partly concealed by the brush, stood two rhinoceroses. They were side by side, apparently dozing. We squatted on our heels for a consultation. The obvious thing, as the wind was from them, was to sneak quietly by, saying nuffin’ to nobody. But although we wanted no more rhino, we very much wanted rhino pictures. A discussion de- veloped no really good reason why we should not kodak these especial rhinos — except that there were two of them. So we began to worm our way quietly through the bushes in their direction. F. and B. deployed on the flanks, their double- barrelled rifles ready for instant action. I occupied the middle with that dangerous weapon the 3 A kodak. Memba Sasa followed at my elbow, hold- ing my big gun. Now the trouble with modern photography is that it is altogether too lavish in its depiction of dis- tances. If you do not believe it, take a picture of a horse at as short a range as twenty-five yards. That equine will, in the development, have receded to a respectable middle distance. Therefore it had been agreed that the advance of the battle line was to cease only when those rhinoceroses loomed up rea- sonably large in the finder. I kept looking into the finder, you may be sure. Nearer and nearer 105 THE LAST FRONTIER we crept. The great beasts were evidently basking inthe sun. Their little pig eyes alone gave any sign of life. Otherwise they exhibited the complete immobility of something done in granite. Prob- ably no other beast impresses one with quite this quality. I suppose it is because even the little motions peculiar to other animals are with the rhinoc- eros entirely lacking. He is not in the least of a nervous disposition, so he does not stamp his feet nor change his position. It is useless for him to wag his tail; for, in the first place, the tail is absurdly inadequate; and, in the second place, flies are not among his troubles. Flies wouldn’t bother you either, if you had a skin two inches thick. So there they stood, inert and solid as two huge brown rocks, save for the deep, wicked twinkle of their little eyes. Yes, we were close enough to “‘see the whites of their eyes,” if they had had any: and also to be within the range of their limited vision. Of course we were now stalking, and taking advantage of all the cover. | Those rhinoceroses looked to me like two Dread- naughts. The African two-horned rhinoceros is a bigger animal anyway than our circus friend, who generally comes from India. One of these brutes I measured went five feet nine inches at the shoulder, and was thirteen feet six inches from bow to stern. 106 THE FIRST LION Compare these dimensions with your own height and with the length of your motor car. It is one thing to take on such beasts in the hurry of surprise, the excitement of a charge, or to stalk up to within a respectable range of them with a gun at ready. But this deliberate sneaking up with the hope of being able to sneak away again was a little too slow and cold-blooded. It made me nervous. I liked it, but I knew at the time I was going to like it a whole lot better when it was triumphantly over. We were now within twenty yards (they were standing starboard side on), and I prepared to get my picture. To do so I would either have to step quietly out into sight, trusting to the shadow and the slowness of my movements to escape observa- tion, or hold the camera above the bush, directing it by guess work. It wasa little difficult to decide. I knew what I ought to do Without the slightest premonitory warning those two brutes snorted and whirled in their tracks to stand facing in our direction. After the dead still- ness they made a tremendous row, what with the jerky suddenness of their movements, their loud snorts, and the avalanche of echoing stones and boul- ders they started down the hill. This was the magnificent opportunity. At this point I should boldly have stepped out from behind 107 THE LAST FRONTIER my bush, levelled my trusty 3 A, and coolly snapped the beasts, “‘charging at fifteen yards.” Then, if B.’s and F.’s shots went absolutely true, or if the brutes didn’t happen to smash the camera as well as me, I, or my executors as the case might be, would have had a fine picture. But I didn’t. I dropped that expensive 3A Special on some hard rocks, and grabbed my rifle from Memba Sasa. If you want really to know why, go confront your motor car at fifteen or twenty paces, multiply him by two, and endow him with an eagerly malicious disposition. They advanced several yards, halted, faced us for perhaps five or six seconds, uttered another snort, whirled with the agility of polo ponies, and departed at a swinging trot and with surprising agility along the steep side hill. I recovered the camera, undamaged, and we con- tinued our climb. The top of the mesa was disappointing as far as game was concerned. It was covered all over with red stones, round, and as large as a man’s head. Thornbushes found some sort of sustenance in the interstices. But we had gained to a magnificent view. Before us lay the narrow flat, then the winding jungle of our river, then long rolling desert country, gray with 108 THE FIRST LION thorn scrub, sweeping upward to the base of cas- tellated buttes and one tremendous riven cliff moun- tain, dropping over the horizon to a very distant blue range. Behind us eight or ten miles away was the low ridge through which our journey had come. The mesa on which we stood broke back at right angles to admit another stream flowing into our own. Beyond this stream were rolling hills, and scrub country, the hint of blue peaks and illimitable distances falling away to the unknown Tara Desert and the sea. There seemed to be nothing much to be gained here, so we made up our minds to cut across the mesa, and from the other edge of it to overlook the valley of the tributary river. This we would de- scend until we came to our horses. Accordingly we stumbled across a mile or so of those round and rolling stones. Then we found our- selves overlooking a wide flat or pocket where the stream valley widened. It extended even as far as the upward fling of the barrier ranges. Thick scrub covered it, but erratically, so that here and there were little openings or thin places. We sat down, manned our trusty prism glasses, and gave ourselves to the pleasing occupation of looking the country over inch by inch, This is great fun. It is a game a good deal like 00 THE LAST FRONTIER puzzle pictures. Re-examination generally de- velops new and unexpected beasts. We repeated to each other aloud the results of our scrutiny, always without removing the glasses from our eyes. “Oryx, one,” said Ps “‘oryx, two.’ “Giraffe,” reported B., “‘and a herd of impalla.” I saw another giraffe, and another oryx, then two ’ rhinoceroses. The three gunbearers squatted on their heels be- hind us, their fierce eyes staring straight ahead, seeing with the naked eye what we were finding with six-power glasses. We turned to descend the hill. In the very centre of the deep shade of a clump of trees, I saw the gleam of a waterbuck’s horns. While I was telling of this, the beast stepped from his concealment, trotted a short distance upstream and turned to climb a little ridge parallel to that by which we were descending. About halfway up he stopped, staring in our direc- tion, his head erect, the slight ruff under his neck standing forward. He was a good four hundred yards away. B., who wanted him, decided the shot too chancy. He and F. slipped backward until they had gained the cover of the little ridge, then has- tened down the bed of the ravine. Their purpose was to follow the course already taken by the water= II9 THE FIRST LION buck until they should have sneaked within better range. In the meantime I and the gunbearers sat down in full view of the buck. This was to keep his attention distracted. We sat there along time. The buck never moved but continued to stare at what evidently puzzled him, ‘Time passes very slowly in such circumstances, and it seemed incredible that the beast should continue much longer to hold his fixed attitude. Nevertheless B. and F. were working hard. We caught glimpses of them occasionally slipping from bush to bush. Finally B. knelt and levelled his rifle. At once I turned my glasses on the buck. Before the sound of the rifle had reached me, I saw him start convulsively, then make off at the tearing run that indicates a heart hit. A moment later the crack of the rifle and the dull plunk of the hitting bullet struck my ear. We tracked him fifty yards to where he lay dead. He was a fine trophy, and we at once set the boys to preparing it and taking the meat. In the mean- time we sauntered down to look at the stream. It was a small rapid affair, but in heavy papyrus, with sparse trees, and occasional thickets, and dry hard banks. The papyrus should make a good lurking place for almost anything; but the few points of ac- cess to the water failed to show many interesting Tit THE LAST FRONTIER tracks. Nevertheless we decided to explore a short distance. For an hour we walked among high thornbushes, over baking hot earth. We saw two or three dik- dik and one of the giraffes. By that time it had be- come very hot, and the sun was bearing down on us as with the weight of a heavy hand. The air had the scorching, blasting quality of an opened furnace door. Our mouths were getting dry and sticky in that peculiar stage of thirst on which no luke-warm canteen water in necessarily limited quantity has any effect. So we turned back, picked up the men with the waterbuck, and plodded on down the little stream, or, rather, on the red-hot dry valley bot- tom outside the stream’s course, to where the syces were waiting with our horses. We mounted with great thankfulness. It was now eleven o’clock, and we considered our day as finished. The best way for a distance seemed to follow the course of the tributary stream to its point of junc- tion with our river. We rode along, rather relaxed in the suffocating heat. F. was nearest the stream. . At one point it freed itself of trees and brush and ran clear, save for low papyrus, ten feet down below a steep eroded bank. F. looked over and uttered a startled exclamation. I spurred my horse forward to see. 112 THE FIRST LION Below us, about fifteen yards away, was the car- _ cass of a waterbuck half hidden in the foot-high grass. A lion and two lionesses stood upon it, staring up at us with great yellow eyes. That picture is a very vivid one in my memory, for those were the first wild lions I had ever seen. My most lively impression was of their unexpected size. ‘They seemed to bulk fully a third larger than my expectation. The magnificent beasts stood only long enough to see clearly what had disturbed them, then turned, and in two bounds had gained the shelter of the thicket. Now the habit in Africa is to let your gunbearers carry all your guns. You yourself stride along hand free. It is an English idea, and is pretty generally adopted cut there by every one, of whatever na- tionality. They will explain it to you by saying that in such a climate a man should do only neces- sary physical work, and that a good gunbearer will get a weapon into your hand so quickly and in so convenient a position that you will lose no time. I acknowledge the gunbearers are sometimes very skilful at this, but I do deny that there is no loss of time. The instant of distracted attention while receiving a weapon, the necessity of recollecting the nervous correlations after the transfer, very often mark just the difference between a sure instinctive 113 THE LAST FRONTIER snapshot and a lost opportunity. It stands to reason that the man with the rifle in his hand reacts instinctively, in one motion, to get his weapon into play. If the gunbearer has the gun, he must first react to pass it up, the master must receive it prop- erly, and then, and not until then, may go on from where the other man began. As for physical labour in the tropics: if a grown man cannot without dis- comfort or evil effects carry an eight-pound rifle, he is too feeble to go out at all. In a long Western experience I have learned never to be separated from my weapon; and I believe the continuance of this habit in Africa saved me a good number of chances. At any rate, we all flung ourselves off our horses. I, having my rifle in my hand, managed to throw a shot after the biggest lion as he vanished. It was a snap at nothing, and missed. “Then in an opening on the edge a hundred yards away appeared one of the lionesses. She was trotting slowly, and on her I had time to draw a hasty aim. At the shot she bounded high in the air, fell, rolled over, and was up and into the thicket before I had much more than time to pump up another shell from the magazine. Memba Sasa in his eagerness got in the way — the first and last time he ever made a mistake in the field. By this time the others had got hold of their 114 THE FIRST LION weapons. We fronted the blank face of the thicket. The wounded animal would stand a little waiting. We made a wide circle to the other side of the stream. There we quickly picked up the trail of the two unin- jured beasts. They had headed directly over the hill, where we speedily lost all trace of them on the flint- like surface of the ground. We saw a big pack of baboons in the only likely direction for a lion to go. Being thus thrown back on a choice of a hundred other unlikely directions, we gave up that slim chance and returned to the thicket. This proved to be a very dense piece of cover. Above the height of the waist the interlocking branches would absolutely prevent any progress, but by stooping low we could see dimly among the simpler main stems to a distance of perhaps fifteen or twenty feet. This combination at once afforded the wounded lioness plenty of cover in which to hide, plenty of room in which to charge home, and placed us under the disadvantage of a crouched or crawling attitude with limited vision. We talked the matter over very thoroughly. There was only one way to get that lioness out; and that was to go after her. The job of going after her needed some planning. The lion is cunning and exceeding fierce, A flank attack, once we were II5 THE LAST FRONTIER in the thicket, was as much to be expected as a frontal charge. We advanced to the thicket’s edge with many pre- cautions. ‘To our relief we found she had left us a definite trail. B. and I kneeling took up positions on either side, our rifles ready. F. and Simba crawled by inches eight or ten feet inside the thicket. Then, having executed this manceuvre safely, B. moved up to protect our rear while I, with Memba Sasa, slid down to join F. From this point we moved forward alternately. I would crouch, all alert, my rifie ready, while F. slipped by me and a few feet ahead. Then he would get organized for battle while I passed him. Mem- ba Sasa and Simba, game as badgers, their fierce eyes gleaming with excitement, their faces shining. crept along at the rear. B. knelt outside the thicket, straining his eyes for the slightest movement either side of the line of our advance. Often these wily animals will sneak back in a half circle to attack their pursuers from behind. Two or three of the bolder porters crouched alongside B., peering eagerly. The rest had quite properly retired to the safe dis- tance where the horses stood. We progressed very, very slowly. Every splash of light or mottled shadow, every clump of bush stems, every fallen log had to be examined, and then 116 ‘Jay JOYS 9M UIYM payoNnosd aM Jods JOexXd 9} UOJ UIYR} ‘TJa} ssauor, ay} s1ayM yods yORxa oY, ee ol thought it would do the most good.” THE FIRST LION examined again. And how we did strain our eyes in a vain attempt to penetrate the half lights, the duskinesses of the closed-in thicket not over fifteen feet away! And then the movement forward of two feet would bring into our field of vision an entirely new set of tiny vistas and possible lurking places. Speaking for myself, I was keyed up to a tremen- dous tension. I stared until my eyes ached; every muscle and nerve was taut. Everything depended on seeing the beast promptly, and firing quickly. With the manifest advantage of being able to see us, she would spring to battle fully prepared. A yellow flash and a quick shot seemed about to size up that situation. Every few moments, I remember, I sur- reptitiously held out my hand to see if the con- stantly growing excitement and the long-continued strain had affected its steadiness. The combination of heat and nervous strain was very exhausting. The sweat poured from me; and as F. passed me I saw the great drops standing out on his face. My tongue got dry, my breath came laboriously. Finally I began to wonder whether physically I should be able to hold out. We had been crawling, it seemed, for hours. I dared not look back, but we must have come a good quarter mile. Finally F. stopped. *T’m all in for water,” he gasped in a whisper. 117 THE LAST FRONTIER Somehow that confession made me feel a lot bet- ter. I had thought that I was the only one. Cau- tiously we settled back on our heels. Memba Sasa and Simba wiped the sweat from their faces. It seemed that they too had found the work severe. That cheered me up still more. Simba grinned at us, and, worming his way back- ward with the sinuousity of a snake, he disappeared in the direction from which we had come. F. cursed after him in a whisper both for departing and for taking the risk. But in a moment he had returned carrying two canteens of blessed weter. We took a drink most gratefully. I glanced at my watch. It was just under two hours since I had fired my shot. I looked back. My supposed quarter mile had shrunk to not over fifty feet! After resting a few moments longer, we again took up our systematic advance. We made perhaps another fifty feet. We were ascending a very gentle slope. F. was for the mo- ment ahead. Right before us the lion growled; a deep rumbling like the end of a great thunder roll, fath- oms and fathoms deep, with the inner subterranean vibrations of a heavy train of cars passing a man in- side a sealed building. At the same moment over F.’s shoulder I saw a huge yellow head rise up, the round 118 THE FIRST LION eyes flashing anger, the small black-tipped ears laid back, the greatfangs snarling. The beast was notover twelve feet distant. F. immediately fired. His shot, hitting an intervening twig, went wild. With the ut- most coolness he immediately pulled the other trigger of his double barrel. The cartridge snapped. “Tf you will kindly stoop down ” said I, in what I now remember to be rather an exaggeratedly polite tone. As F.’s head disappeared, I placed the little gold bead of my 405 Winchester where I thought it would do the most good, and pulled trig- ger. She rolled over dead. The whole affair had begun and finished with un- believable swiftness. From the growl to the fatal shot I don’t suppose four seconds elapsed, for our various actions had followed one another with the speed of the instinctive. The lioness had growled at our approach, had raised her head to charge, and had received her deathblow before she had released her muscles in the spring. ‘There had been no time to get frightened. We sat back for a second. A brown hand reached over my shoulder. “Mizouri — mizouri sana!” cried Memba Sasa joyously. I shook the hand. “Good business!” said F. ‘“‘Congratulate you on your first lion.” 119 THE LAST FRONTIER We then remembered B., and shouted to him that all was over. He and the other men wriggled in to where we were lying. He made this distance in about fifteen seconds. It had taken us nearly an hour! We had the lioness dragged out into the open. She was not an especially large beast, as compared to most of the others I killed later, but at that time she looked to me about as big as they made them. As a matter of fact she was quite big enough, for she stood three feet two inches at the shoulder — measure that against the wall—and was seven feet and six inches in length. My first bullet had hit her leg, and the last had reached her heart. Every one shook me by the hand. The gun- bearers squatted about the carcass, skilfully removing the skin to an undertone of curious crooning that every few moments broke out into one or two bars of a chant. As the body was uncovered, the men crouched about to cut off little pieces of fat. These they rubbed on their foreheads and over their chests, to make them brave, they said, and cunning, like the lion. We remounted and took up our interrupted jour- ney tocamp. It was a little after two, and the heat was at its worst. We rode rather sleepily, for the reaction from the high tension of excitement had I20 THE FIRST LION setin. Behind us marched the three gunbearers, all abreast, very military and proud. Then came the porters in single file, the one carrying the folded lion skin leading the way; those bearing the waterbuck trophy and meat bringing up the rear. They kept up an undertone of humming in a minor key; oc- casionally breaking into a short musical phrase in full voice. We rode an hour. The camp looked very cool and inviting under its wide high trees, with the river slipping by around the islands of papyrus. A num- ber of black heads bobbed about in the shallows. The small fires sent up little wisps of smoke. Around them our boys sprawled, playing simple games, mending, talking, roasting meat. Their tiny white tents gleamed pleasantly among the cool shadows. I had thought of riding nonchalantly up to our own tents, of dismounting with a careless word of greeting “Oh, yes,” I would say, “‘we did have a good enoughday. Pretty hot. Roy gota fine waterbuck. Yes, I got a lion.” (Tableau on part of Billy.) But Memba Sasa used up all the nonchalance there was. As we entered camp he remarked cas- ually to the nearest man. “Bwana na piga simba —the master has killed a lion.” I2I THE LAST FRONTIER The man leaped to his feet. “Simba! simba! simba!” he yelled. “Na piga simba!”’ Every one in camp also leaped to his feet, taking up the cry. From the water it was echoed as the bathers scrambled ashore. The camp broke into pandemonium. We were surrounded by a dense struggling mass of men. They reached up scores of black hands to grasp my own; they seized from me everything portable and bore it in triumph be- fore me —my water bottle, my rifle, my camera, my whip, my field glasses, even my hat, everything that was detachable. Those on the outside danced and lifted up their voices in song, improvised for the most part, and in honor of the day’s work. In a vast swirling, laughing, shouting, triumphant mob we swept through the camp to where Billy — by now not very much surprised — was waiting to get the official news. By the measure of this extrava- gant joy could we gauge what the killing of a lion means to these people who have always lived under the dread of his rule. I22 xX LIONS VERY large lion I killed stood three feet and nine inches at the withers, and of course car- ried his head higher than that. The top of the table at which I sit is only two feet three inches from the floor. Coming through the door at my back that lion’s head would stand over a foot higher than halfway up. Look at your own writing desk; your own door. Furthermore, he was nine feet and eleven inches in a straight line from nose to end of tail, or over eleven feet along the contour of the back. If he were to rise on his hind feet to strike a man down, he would stand somewhere between seven and eight feet tall, depending on how nearly he straightened up. He weighed just under six hundred pounds, or as much as four well-grown specimens of our own “mountain lion.” [I tell you this that you may realize, as I did not, the size to which a wild lion grows. Either menagerie speci- mens are stunted in growth, or their position and surroundings tend to belittle them, for certainly 123 THE LAST FRONTIER until a man sees old Leo in the wilderness he has not understood what a fine old chap he is. This tremendous weight is sheer strength. A lion’s carcass when the skin is removed is a really beautiful sight. The great muscles lie in ropes and bands; the forearm thicker than a man’s leg, the lithe barrel banded with brawn; the flanks overlaid by the long thick muscles. And this power is instinct with the nervous force of a highly organized being. The lion is quick and intelligent and purposeful; so that he brings to his intenser activities the concen- tration of vivid passion, whether of anger, of hunger or of desire. So far the opinions of varied experience will jog along together. At this point they diverge. Just as the lion is one of the most interesting and fascinating of beasts, so concerning him one may hear the most diverse opinions. This man will tell you that any lion is always dangerous. Another will hold the king of beasts in the most utter con- tempt as a coward and a skulker. In the first place, generalization about any spe- cies of animal is an exceedingly dangerous thing. I believe that, in the case of the higher animals at least, the differences in individual temperament are quite likely to be more numerous than the specific likenesses. Just as individual men are bright or dull, 124 LIONS nervous or phlegmatic, cowardly or brave, so in- dividual animals vary in like respect. Our own hunters will recall from their personal experiences how the big bear may have sat down and bawled harmlessly for mercy, while the little unconsidered fellow did his best until finished off: how one buck dropped instantly to a wound that another would carry five miles: how of two equally matched war- riors of the herd one will give way in the fight, while still uninjured, before his perhaps badly wounded antagonist. [he casual observer might — and often does — say that all bears are cowardly, all bucks are easily killed, or the reverse, according as the god of chance has treated him to one spectacle or the other. As well try to generalize on the human race — as is a certain ecclesiastical habit — that all men are vile or noble, dishonest or upright, wise or foolish. The higher we go in the scale the truer this in- dividualism holds. We are forced to reason not from the bulk of observations, but from their aver- ages. If we find ten bucks who will go a mile badly wounded to two who succumb in their tracks from similar hurts, we are justified in saying tentatively that the species is tenacious of life. But as ex- perience broadens we may modify that statement; for strange indeed are runs of luck. 125 THE LAST FRONTIER For this reason a good deal of the wise conclusion we read in sportsmen’s narratives is worth very little. Few men have experience enough with lions to rise to averages through the possibilities of luck. Especially is this true of lions. No beast that roams seems to go more by luck than felis leo. Good hun- ters may search for years without seeing hide nor hair of one of the beasts. Selous, one of the greatest, went to East Africa for the express purpose of get- ting some of the fine beasts there, hunted six weeks and saw none. Holmes of the Escarpment has lived in the country six years, has hunted a great deal and has yet to kill his first. One of the railroad officials has for years gone up and down the Uganda Railway on his handcar, his rifle ready in hopes of the lion that never appeared; though many are there seen by those with better fortune. Bronson hunted desperately for this great prize, but failed. Rains- ford shot no lions his first trip, and ran into them only three years later. Read Abel Chapman’s description of his continued bad luck at even seeing the beasts. MacMillan, after five years’ unbroken good fortune, has in the last two years failed to kill a lion, although he has made many trips for the pur- pose. F. told me he followed every rumour of a lion for two years before he got one. Again, one may hear the most marvellous of yarns the other 126 LIONS way about — of the German who shot one from the train on the way up from Mombasa; of the young English tenderfoot who, the first day out, came on three asleep, across a river, and potted the lot; and so on. The point is, that in the case of lions the element of sheer chance seems to begin earlier and last longer than is the case with any other beast. And, you must remember, experience must thrust through the luck element to the solid ground of averages before it can have much value in the way of generalization. Before he has reached that solid ground, a man’s opinions depend entirely on what kind of lions he chances to meet, in what cir- cumstances, and on how matters happen to shape in the crowded moments. But though lack of sufficiently extended expe- rience has much to do with these decided differences of opinion, I believe that misapprehension has also its part. The sportsman sees lions on the plains. Likewise the lions see him, and promptly depart to thick cover or rocky butte. He comes on them in the scrub; they bound hastily out of sight. He may even meet them face to face, but instead of attack- ing him, they turn to right and left and make off in the long grass. When he follows them, they sneak cunningly away. If, added to this, he has the good luck to kill one or two stone dead at a single shot 127 THE LAST FRONTIER each, he begins to think there is not much in lion shooting after all, and goes home proclaiming the king of beasts a skulking coward. After all, on what grounds does he base this con- clusion? In what way have circumstances been a test of courage at all? The lion did not stand and fight, to be sure; but why should he? What was there in it for lions? Behind any action must a motive exist. Where is the possible motive for any lion to attack on sight? He does not — except in unusual cases — eat men; nothing has occurred to make him angry. The obvious thing is to avoid trouble, unless there is a good reason to seek it. In that one evidences the lion’s good sense, but not his lack of courage. That quality has not been called upon at all. But if the sportsman had done one of two or three things, I am quite sure he would have had a taste of our friend’s mettle. If he had shot at and even grazed the beast; if he had happened upon him where an exit was not obvious; or if he had even fol- lowed the lion until the latter had become tired of the annoyance, he would very soon have discovered that Leo is not all good nature, and that once angered his courage will take him in against any odds. Furthermore, he may be astonished and dismayed to discover that of a group of several lions, two or 128 LIONS three besides the wounded animal are quite likely to take up the quarrel and charge too. In other words, in my opinion, the lion avoids trouble when he can, not from cowardice but from essential indolence or good nature; but does not need to be cornered* to fight to the death when in his mind his dignity is sufficiently assailed. For of all dangerous beasts the lion, when once aroused, will alone face odds to the end. The rhinoc- eros, the elephant, and even the buffalo can often be turned aside by a shot. A lion almost always charges home.t Slower and slower he comes, as the bullets strike; but he comes, until at last he may be just hitching himself along, his face to the enemy, his fierce spirit undaunted. When finally he rolls over, he bites the earth in great mouthfuls; and so passes, fighting to the last. The death of a lion is a fine sight. No, I must confess, to me the lion is an object of great respect; and so, I gather, he is to all who have had really extensive experience. Those like Leslie Tarleton, Lord Delamere, W. N. MacMillan, Baron von Bronsart, the Hills, Sir Alfred Pease, who are great lion men, all concede to the lion a courage and *This is an important distinction in estimating the inherent courage of man or beast. Even a mouse will fight when cornered. {I seem to be generalizing here, but all these conclusions must be under- stood to take into consideration the liability of individual variation. 129 THE LAST FRONTIER tenacity unequalled by any other living beast. My own experience is of course nothing as compared to that of these men. Yet I saw in my nine months afield seventy-one lions. None of these offered to attack when unwounded or not annoyed. On the other hand, only one turned tail once the battle was on, and she proved to be a three quarters grown lion- ess, sick and out of condition. It is of course indubitable that where lions have been much shot they become warier in the matter of keeping out of trouble. They retire to cover earlier in the morning, and they keep more than a per- functory outlook for the casual human being. When hunters first began to go into the Sotik the lions there would stand imperturbably, staring at the intruder with curiosity or indifference. Now they have learned that such performances are not healthy — and they have probably satisfied their curiosity. But neither in the Sotik, nor even in the plains around Nairobi itself, does the lion refuse the challenge once it has been put up to him squarely. Nor does he need to be cornered. He charges in quite blithely from the open plain, once convinced that you are really an annoyance. As to habits! The only sure thing about a lion is his originality. He has more exceptions to his rules than the German language. Men who have 130 LIONS been mighty lion hunters for many years, and who have brought to their hunting close observation, can only tell you what a lion may do in certain cir- cumstances. Following very broad principles, they may even predict what he is apt to do, but never what he certainly will do. That is one thing that makes lion hunting interesting. In general, then, the lion frequents that part of the country where feed the great game herds. From them he takes his toll by night, retiring during the day into the shallow ravines, the brush patches, or the rocky little buttes. I have, however, seen lions miles from game, slumbering peacefully atop an ant hill. Indeed, occasionally, a pack of lions likes to live high in the tall-grass ridges where every hunt will mean for them a four-or five-mile jaunt out and back again. He needs water, after feeding, and so rarely gets farther than eight or ten miles from that necessity. He hunts at night. This is as nearly invariable a rule as can be formulated in regard to lions. Yet once, and perhaps twice, I saw lionesses stalking through tall grass as early as three o’clock in the afternoon. This eagerness may, or may not, have had to do with the possession of hungry cubs. The lion’s customary harmlessness in the daytime is best evidenced, however, by the comparative in- 131 THE LAST FRONTIER difference of the game to his presence then. From a hill we watched three of these beasts wandering leis- urely across the plains below. A herd of kongonis feeding directly in their path, merely moved aside right and left, quite deliberately, to leave a passage fifty yards or so wide, but otherwise paid not the slightest attention. I have several times seen this incident, or a modification of it. And yet, conversely, on a number of occasions we have received our first intimation of the presence of lions by the wild stampeding of the game away from a certain spot. However, the most of his hunting is done by dark. Between the hours of sundown and nine o’clock he and his comrades may be heard uttering the deep coughing grunt typical of this time of night. These curious, short, far-sounding calls may be mere evi- dences of intention, or they may be a sort of signal by means of which the various hunters keep in touch. After a little they cease. Then one is quite likely to hear the petulant, alarmed barking of zebra, or to feel the vibrations of many hoofs. There is a sense of hurried, flurried uneasiness abroad on the veldt. The lion generally springs on his prey from be- hind or a little off the quarter. By the impetus of his own weight he hurls his victim forward, doubling its head under, and very neatly breaking its neck. 132 LIONS I have never seen this done, but the process has been well observed and attested; and certainly, of the many hundreds of lion kills I have taken the pains to inspect, the majority had had their necks broken. Sometimes, but apparently more rarely, the lion kills its prey by a bite in the back of the neck. I have seen zebra killed in this fashion, but never any of the buck. It may be possible that the lack of horns makes it more difficult to break a zebra’s neck because of the corresponding lack of leverage when its head hits the ground sidewise; the instances I have noted may have been those in which the lion’s spring landed too far back to throw the victim prop- erly; or perhaps they were merely examples of the great variability in the habits of felis leo. Once the kill is made, the lion disembowels the beast very neatly indeed, and drags the entrails a few feet out of the way. He then eats what he wants, and, curiously enough, seems often to be very fond of the skin. In fact, lacking other evidence, it is occasionally possible to identify a kill as being that of a lion by noticing whether any considerable por- tion of the hide has been devoured. After eating he drinks. Then he is likely to do one of two things: either he returns to cover near the carcass and lies down, or he wanders slowly and with satisfaction toward his happy home. In the latter case the 133 THE LAST FRONTIER hyenas, jackals, and carrion birds seize their chance. The astute hunter can often diagnose the case by the general actions and demeanour of these camp fol- lowers. A half dozen sour and disgusted looking hyenas seated on their haunches at scattered inter- vals, and treefuls of mournfully humpbacked vul- tures sunk in sadness, indicate that the lion has decided to save the rest of his zebra until to-morrow and is not far away. On the other hand, a grand flapping, snarling Kilkenny-fair of an aggregation swirling about one spot in the grass means that the principal actor has gone home. It is ordinarily useless to expect to see the lion actually on his prey. The feeding is done before dawn, after which the lion enjoys stretching out in | the open until the sun is well up, and then retiring to the nearest available cover. Still, at the risk of seeming to be perpetually qualifying, I must in- stance finding three lions actually on the stale car- cass of a waterbuck at eleven o’clock in the morning of a piping hot day! In an undisturbed country, or one not much hunted, the early morning hours up to say nine o'clock are quite likely to show you lions sauntering leisurely across the open plains toward their lairs. They go a little, stop a little, yawn, sit down a while, and gradually work their way home. At those times you come upon them 134 LIONS unexpectedly face to face, or, seeing them from afar, ride them down in a glorious gallop. Where the country has been much hunted, however, the lion learns to abandon his kill and seek shelter before daylight, and is almost never seen abroad. Then one must depend on happening upon him in his cover. In the actual hunting of his game the lion is ap- parently very clever. He understands the value of cooperation. Two or more will manceuvre very skilfully to give a third the chance to make an ef- fective spring; whereupon the three will share the kill. In a rough country, or one otherwise favour- able to the method, a pack of lions will often delib- erately drive game into narrow ravines or cul de sacs where the killers are waiting. At such times the man favoured by the chance of an encampment within five miles or so can hear a lion’s roar. Otherwise I doubt if he is apt often to get the full- voiced, genuine article. The peculiar questioning cough of early evening is resonant and deep in vibra- tion, but it is a call rather than a roar. No lion is fool enough to make a noise when he is stalking. Then afterward, when full fed, individuals may open up a few times, but only a few times, in sheer Satisfaction, apparently, at being well fed. The 135 THE LAST FRONTIER menagerie row at feeding time, formidable as it sounds within the echoing walls, is only a mild and gentle hint. But when seven or eight lions roar merely to see how much noise they can make, as when driving game, or trying to stampede your oxen on a wagon trip, the effect is something tremendous. The very substance of the ground vibrates; the air shakes. I can only compare it to the effect of a very large deep organ in a very small church. There is something genuinely awe-inspiring about it; and when the repeated volleys rumble into silence, one can imagine the veldt crouched in a rigid terror that shall endure. 136 XI LIONS AGAIN S TO the dangers of lion hunting it is also difficult to write. There is no question that a cool man, using good judgment as to just what he can or cannot do, should be able to cope with lion situations. The modern rifle is capable of stopping the beast, provided the bullet goes to the right spot. The right spot is large enough to be easy to hit, if the shooter keeps cool. Our definition of a cool man must comprise the elements of steady nerves under super-excitement, the ability to think quickly and clearly, and the mildly strategic quality of being able to make the best use of awkward circumstances. Such a man, barring sheer accidents, should be able to hunt lions with absolute certainty for just as long as he does not get careless, slipshod or over- confident. Accidents — real accidents, not merely unexpected happenings — are hardly to be counted. They can occur in your own house. But to the man not temperamentally qualified, lion shooting is dangerous enough. ‘The lion, when 137 THE LAST FRONTIER he takes the offensive, intends to get his antagonist. Having made up his mind to that, he charges home, generally at great speed. The realization that it is the man’s life or the beast’s is disconcerting. Also the charging lion is a spectacle much more awe- inspiring in reality than the most vivid imagination can predict. He looks very large, very determined, and has uttered certain rumbling, blood-curdling threats as to what he is going to do about it. It suddenly seems most undesirable to allow that lion to come any closer, not even aninch! A hasty, ner- vous shot misses An unwounded lion charging from a distance is said to start rather slowly, and to increase his pace only as he closes. Personally I have never been charged by an unwounded beast, but I can testify that the wounded animal comes very fast. Cun- inghame puts the rate at about seven seconds to the hundred yards. Certainly I should say that a man charged from fifty yards or so would have little chance for a second shot, provided he missed the first. A hit seemed, in my experience, to check the animal, by sheer force of impact, long enough to permit me to throw in another cartridge. A lioness thus took four frontal bullets starting at about sixty yards. An initial miss would probably have permitted her to close. 138 LIONS AGAIN Here, as can be seen, is a great source of danger to a flurried or nervous beginner. He does not want that lion to get an inch nearer; he fires at too long a range, misses, and is killed or mauled before he can reload. This happened precisely so to two young friends of MacMillan. They were armed with double-rifles, let them off hastily as the beast start- led at them from two hundred yards, and never got another chance. If they had possessed the expe- rience to have waited until the lion had come within fifty yards they would have had the almost certainty of four barrels at close range. ‘Though I have seen a lion missed clean well inside those limits. From such performances are so-called lion acci- dents built. During my stay in Africa I heard of six white men being killed by lions, anda number of others mauled. As far as possible I tried to deter- mine the facts of each case. In every instance the trouble followed either foolishness or loss of nerve. I believe I should be quite safe in saying that from identically the same circumstances any of the good lion men — Tarleton, Lord Delamere, the Hills, and others— would have extricated themselves unharmed. This does not mean that accidents may not hap- pen. Rifles jam, but generally because of flurried manipulation! One may unexpectedly meet the lion at too close quarters; a foot may slip, or a cart- 139 THE LAST FRONTIER ridge prove defective. So may one fall downstairs, or bump one’s head inthe dark. Sufficient fore- thought and alertness and readiness would go far in either case to prevent bad results. The wounded beast, of course, offers the most in- teresting problem to the lion hunter. [If it sees the hunter, it is likely to charge him at once. [f hit while making off, however, it is more apt to take cover. Then one must summon all his good sense and nerve to get it out. No rules can be given for this; nor am I trying to write a text book for lion hunters. Any good lion hunter knows a lot more about it than I do. But always a man must keep in mind three things: that a lion can hide in cover so short that it seems to the novice as though a jack-rabbit would find scant concealment there; that he charges like lightning, and that he can spring about fifteen feet. This spring, coming unexpectedly from an unseen beast, is about impossible to avoid. Sheer luck may land a fatal shot; but even then the lion will probably do his damage before he dies. The rush from a short distance a good quick shot ought to be able to cope with. Therefore the wise hunter assures himself of at least twenty feet — preferably more — of neutral zone all about him. No matter how long it takes, he determines absolutely that the lion is not 140 LIONS AGAIN within that distance. The rest is alertness and quickness. As I have said, the amount of cover necessary to conceal a lion is astonishingly small. He can flatten himself out surprisingly; and his tawny colour blends so well with the brown grasses that he is practically invisible. A practised man does not, of course, look for lions at all. He is after unusual small patches, especially the black ear tips or the black of the mane. Once guessed at, it is interesting to see how quickly the hitherto unsuspected animal sketches itself out in the cover. I should, before passing on to another aspect of the matter, mention the dangerous poisons carried by the lion’s claws. Often men have died from the most trivial surface wounds. The grooves of the claws carry putrefying meat from the kills. Every sensible man in a lion country carries a small syringe, and either permanganate or carbolic. And those mild little remedies he uses full strength! The great and overwhelming advantage is of course with the hunter. He possesses as deadly a weapon: and that weapon will kill at a distance. This is proper, I think. There are more lions than hunters; and, from our point of view, the man is more important than the beast. The game is not too hazardous. By that I mean that, barring sheer 141 THE LAST FRONTIER accident, a man is sure to come out all right provided he does accurately the right thing. In other words, it is a dangerous game of skill, but it does not possess the blind danger of a forest in a hurricane, say. Furthermore, it is a game that no man need play unless he wants to. In the lion country he may go about his business — daytime business —as though he were home at the farm. Such being the case, may I be pardoned for in- truding one of my own small ethical ideas at this point, with the full realization that it depends upon an entirely personal point of view. As far as my own case goes, I consider it poor sportsmanship ever to refuse a lion-chance merely because the advan- tages are not allin my favour. After all, lion hunt- ing is on a different plane from ordinary shooting: it is a challenge to war, a deliberate seeking for mortal combat. Is it not just a little shameful to pot old felis leo — at long range, in the open, near his kill, and wherever we have him at an advantage — nine times, and then to back out because that advantage is for once not so marked? I have so often heard the phrase, “I lethim (or them) alone. It was not good enough,” meaning that the game looked a little risky. Do not misunderstand. I am not advising that you bull ahead into the long grass, or that alone 142 LIONS AGAIN you open fire on a half dozen lions in easy range. Kind providence endowed you with strategy, and certainly you should never go in where there is no show for you to use your weapon effectively. But occasionally the odds will be against you and you will be called upon to take more or less of a chance. I do not think it is quite square to quit playing merely because for once your opponent has been dealt the better cards. If£there are too many of them see if you cannot manceuvre them; if the grass is long, try every means in your power to get them out. Stay with them. - If finally you fail, you will at least have the satisfaction of knowing that circumstances alone have defeated you. If you do not like that sort of a game, stay out of it entirely. 143 XII MORE LIONS OR do the last remarks of the preceding chapter mean that you shall not have your trophy in peace. Perhaps excitement and a slight doubt as to whether or not you are going to survive do not appeal to you; but nevertheless you would like a lion skin or so. By all means shoot one lion, or two, or three in the safest fashion you can. But after that you ought to play the game. The surest way to get a lion is to kill a zebra, cut holes in him, fill the holes with strychnine, and come back next morning. ‘This method is absolutely safe. The next safest way is to follow the quarry with a pack of especially trained dogs. The lion is so busy and nervous over those dogs that you can walk up and shoot him in the ear. This method has the excitement of riding and following, the joy of a grand and noisy row, and the fun of seeing a good dog- fight. The same effect can be got chasing wart-hogs, hyenas, jackals —or jack-rabbits. The objection is that it wastes a noble beast in an inferior game. 144 MORE LIONS My personal opinion is that no man is justified in following with dogs any large animal that can be captured with reasonable certainty without them. The sport of coursing is another matter; but that is quite the same in essence whatever the size of the quarry. If you want to kill a lion or so quite safely, and at the same time enjoy a glorious and exciting gallop with lots of accompanying row, by all means follow the sport with hounds. But having killed one or two by that method, quit. Do not goon and clean up the country. You can doit. Poison and hounds are the sure methods of finding any lions there may be about; and after the first few, one is about as justifiable as the other. If you want the undoubtedly great joy of cross country pursuit, send your hounds in after less noble game. The third safe method of killing a lion is noc- turnal. You lay out a kill beneath a tree, and climb the tree. Or better, you hitch out a pig or donkey as live bait. When the lion comes to this free lunch, you try to see him; and, if you succeed in that, you try to shoot him. It is not easy to shoot at night; nor is it easy to see in the dark. Furthermore, lions only occasionally bother to come to bait. You may roost up that tree many nights before you get a chance. Once up, you have to stay up; for it is most decidedly not safe to go home after dark. The tropi-; 145 THE LAST FRONTIER cal night in the highlands is quite chilly. Branches seem to be quite as cramping and abrasive under the equator as in the temperate zones. Still, it is one method. Another is to lay out a kill and visit it in the early morning. ‘There is more to this, for you are afoot, must generally search out your beast in nearby cover, and can easily find any amount of excitement in the process. The fourth way is to ride the lion. The hunter sees his quarry returning home across the plains, perhaps; or jumps it from some small bushy ravine. At once he spurs his horse in pursuit. The lion will run but a short distance before coming to a stop, for he is not particularly long either of wind or of pa- tience. From this stand he almost invariably charges. The astute hunter, still mounted, turns and flees. When the lion gets tired of chasing, which he does in a very short time, the hunter faces about. At last the lion sits down in the grass, waiting for the game to develop. ‘This is the time for the hunter to dismount and to take his shot. Quite likely he must now stand a charge afoot, and drop his beast before it gets to him. ; This is real fun. It has many elements of safety, and many of danger. To begin with, the hunter at this game generally 146 ae alate te The lioness that charged when I had only the Springfield and no gunbearer. Also Mavrouki and Memba Sasa. The lion we killed out of the band of eight after following them for hours. _ MORE LIONS has companions to back him: often he employs mounted Somalis to round the lion up and get it to stand. The charging lion is quite apt to make for the conspicuous mounted men— who can easily escape — ignoring the hunter afoot. As the game is largely played in the open, the movements of the beast are easily followed. On the other hand, there is room for mistake. The hunter, for example, should never follow directly in the rear of his lion, but rather at a parallel course off the beast’s flank. Then, if the lion stops sud- denly, the man does not overrun before he can check his mount. He should never dismount nearer than a hundred and fifty yards from the embayed animal; and should never try to get off while the lion is moving in his direction. Then, too, a hard gallop is not conducive to the best of shooting. It is dif- ficult to hold the front bead steady; and it is still more difficult to remember to wait, once the lion charges, until he has come near enough for a sure shot. A neglect in the inevitable excitement of the moment to remember these and a dozen other small matters may quite possibly cause trouble. Two or three men together can make this one of the most exciting mounted games on earth; with enough of the give and take of real danger and battle to make it worth while. The hunter, how- 147 THE LAST FRONTIER ever, who employs a dozen Somalis to ride the beast to a standstill, after which he goes to the front, has eliminated much of the thrill. Nor need that man’s stay-at-home family feel any excessive uneasiness over Father Killing Lions in Africa. The method that interested me more than any other is one exceedingly difficult to follow except under favourable circumstances. I refer to tracking them down afoot. This requires that your gun- bearer should be an expert trailer, for, outside the fact that following a soft-padded animal over all sorts of ground is a very difficult thing to do, the hunter should be free tospy ahead. It is necessary also to possess much patience and to endure under many disappointments. But on the other hand there is in this sport a continuous keen thrill to be enjoyed in no other; and he who single handed tracks down and kills his lion thus, has well earned the title of shi- kari — the Hunter. And the last method of all is to trust to the God of Chance. The secret of success is to be always ready to take instant advantage of what the moment of- fers. An occasional hunting story is good in itself: and the following will also serve to illustrate what I have just been saying. We were after that prize, the greater kudu, and 148 MORE LIONS in his pursuit had penetrated into some very rough country. Our hunting for the time being was over a broad bench, perhaps four or five miles wide, below a range of mountains. The bench itself broke down in sheer cliffs some fifteen hundred feet, but one did not appreciate that fact unless he stood fairly on the edge of the precipice. To all intents and purposes we were on a rolling grassy plain, with low hills and cliffs, and a most beautiful little stream running down it beneath fine trees. Up to now our hunting had gained us little beside information: that kudu had occasionally visited the region, that they had not been there for a month, and that the direction of their departure had been obscure. So we worked our way down the stream, trying out the possibilities. Of other game there seemed to be a fair supply: impalla, hartebeeste, zebra, eland, buffalo, wart-hog, sing-sing, and giraffe we had seen. I had secured a wonderful eland and a very fine impalla, and we had had a gorgeous close- quarters fight with a cheetah.* Now C. had gone out, a three weeks’ journey, carrying to medical at- tendance a porter injured in the cheetah fracas. Billy and I were continuing the hunt alone. We had marched two hours, and were pitching *This animal quite disproved the assertion that cheetahs never assume the aggressive. He charged repeatedly. 149. THE LAST FRONTIER camp under a single tree near the edge of the bench. After seeing everything well under way, I took the Springfield and crossed the stream, which here ran ina deep canon. My object was to see if I could get a sing-sing that had bounded away at our approach. I did not bother to take a gunbearer, because I did not expect to be gone five minutes. The cafion proved unexpectedly deep and rough, and the stream up to my waist. When I had gained the top, I found grass growing patchily from six inches to two feet high; and small, scrubby trees from four to ten feet tall, spaced regularly, but very scattered. These little trees hardly formed cover, but their aggregation at sufficient distance limited the view. The sing-sing had evidently found his way over the edge of the bench. I turned to go back to camp. A duiker —a small grass antelope — broke from a little patch of the taller grass, rushed, head down and headlong after their fashion, suddenly changed his mind, and dashed back again. I stepped forward to see why he had changed his mind — and ran into two lions! They were about thirty yards away, and sat there on their haunches, side by side, staring at me with expressionless yellow eyes. I stared back. The Springfield is a good little gun, and three times be- 150 MORE LIONS fore I had been forced to shoot lions with it, but my real “lion gun’ with which I had done best work was the 405 Winchester. ‘The Springfield is too light for such game. Also there were two lions, very close. Also I was quite alone. As the game stood, it hardly looked like my move; so I held still and waited. Presently one yawned, they looked at each other, turned quite leisurely, and began to move away at a walk. This was a different matter. If I had fired while the two were facing me, I should probably have had them both to deal with. But now that their tails were turned toward me, I should very likely have to do with only the one: at the crack of the rifle the other would run the way he was headed. So I took a careful bead at the lioness and let drive. My aim was to cripple the pelvic bone, but, un- fortunately, just as I fired, the beast wriggled lithely sidewise to pass around a tuft of grass, so that the bullet inflicted merely a slight flesh wound on therump. She whirled like a flash, and as she raised her head high to locate me, I had time to wish that the Springfield hit a trifle harder blow. Also I had time to throw another cartridge in the barrel. The moment she saw me she dropped her head and charged. She was thoroughly angry and came very I51I THE LAST FRONTIER fast. I had just enough time to steady the gold bead on her chest and to pull trigger. At the shot, to my great relief, she turned bottom up, and I saw her tail for an instant above the grass —an almost sure indication of a bad hit. She thrashed around, and made a tremendous hullabaloo of snarls and growls. I backed out slowly, my rifle ready. It was no place for me, for the grass was over knee high. Once at a safe distance I blazed a tree with my hunting knife and departed for camp, well pleased to be out of it. Atcamp I ate lunch and had a smoke; then with Memba Sasa and Mavrouki returned to the scene of trouble. I had now the 405 Winchester, a light and handy weapon delivering a tremendous blow. We found the place readily enough. My lioness had recovered from the first shock and had gone. I was very glad I had gone first. The trail was not very plain, but it could be fol- lowed a foot or so at a time, with many faults and casts back. I walked a yard to one side while the men followed the spoor. Owing to the abundance of cover it was very nervous work, for the beast might be almost anywhere, and would certainly charge. We tried to keep a neutral zone around ourselves by tossing stones ahead of and on both sides of our line 152 MORE LIONS of advance. My own position was not bad, for I had the rifle ready in my hand, but the men were in dan- ger. Of course I was protecting them as well as I could, but there was always a chance that the lion- ess might spring on them in such a manner that | would be unable to use my weapon. Once I sug- gested that as the work was dangerous, they could quit if they wanted to. ““Hapana!” they both refused indignantly. We had proceeded thus for half a mile when to our relief, right ahead of us, sounded the commanding, rumbling half-roar, half-growl of the lion at bay. Instantly Memba Sasa and Mavrouki dropped back to me. We all peered ahead. One of the boys made her out first, crouched under a bush thirty-two yards away. Even as I raised the rifle she saw us and charged. I caught her in the chest before she had come ten feet. The heavy bullet stopped her dead. Then she recovered and started forward slowly, very weak, but game to the last. Another shot finished her. The remarkable point of this incident was the action of the little Springfield bullet. Evidently the very high velocity of this bullet from its shock to the nervous system had delivered a paralyzing blow sufficient to knock out the lioness for the time being. Its damage to tissue, however, was slight. In- 153 THE LAST FRONTIER asmuch as the initial shock did not cause immediate death, the lioness recovered sufficiently to be able, two hours later, to take the offensive. ‘This point is of the greatest interest to the student of ballistics; but it is curious even to the ordinary reader. That is a very typical example of finding lions by sheer chance. Generally a man is out looking for the smallest kind of game when he runs up against them. Now happened to follow an equally typical example of tracking. The next day after the killing of the lioness Mem- ba Sasa, Kongoni and I dropped off the bench, and hunted greater kudu on a series of terraces fifteen hundred feet below. All we found were two rhino, some sing-sing, a heard of impalla, and a tremendous thirst. In the meantime, Mavrouki had, under orders, scouted the foothills of the mountain range at the back. He reported none but old tracks of kudu, but said he had seen eight lions not far from our encounter of the day before. Therefore, as soon next morning as we could see plainly, we again crossed the cafion and the waist- deep stream. I had with me all three of the gun men, and in addition two of the most courageous porters to help with the tracking and the looking. About eight o’clock we found the first fresh pad mark plainly outlined in an isolated piece of soft 154 MORE LIONS earth. Immediately we began that most fascina- ting of games —trailing over difficult ground. In this we could all take part, for the tracks were some hours old, and the cover scanty. Very rarely could we make out more than three successive marks. Then we had to spy carefully for the slightest in- dication of direction. Kongoni in especial was won- derful at this, and time and again picked up a broken grass blade or the minutest inch-fraction of disturbed earth. We moved slowly, in long hesitations and castings about, and in swift little dashes forward of a few feet; and often we went astray on false scents, only to return finally to the last certain spot. In this manner we crossed the little plain with the scat- tered shrub trees and arrived at the edge of the low bluff above the stream bottom. This bottom was well wooded along the immediate bank of the stream itself, fringed with low thick brush, and in the open spaces grown to the edges with high, green, coarse grass. As soon as we had managed to follow without fault to this grass, our difficulties of trailing were at an end. The lions’ heavy bodies had made distinct paths through the tangle. These paths went for- ward sinuously, sometimes separating one from the other, sometimes intertwining, sometimes combining into one for a short distance. We could not deter- 155 THE LAST FRONTIER mine accurately the number of beasts that had made them. ‘They have gone to drink water,”’ said Memba Sasa. We slipped along the twisting paths, alert for indications; came to the edge of the thicket, stooped through the fringe, and descended to the stream under the tall trees. The soft earth at the water’s edge was covered with tracks, thickly, overlaid one over the other. The boys felt of the earth, examined even smelled, and came to the conclusion that the beasts must have watered about five o’clock. If so, they might be ten miles away, or as many rods. We had difficulty in determining just where the party left this place, until finally Kongoni caught sight of suspicious indications over the way. The lions had crossed the stream. We did likewise, followed the trail out of the thicket, into the grass, below the little cliffs parallel to the stream, back into the thicket, across the river once more, up the other side, in the thicket for a quarter mile, then out into the grass on that side, and so on. They were evi- dently wandering, rather idly, up the general course of the stream. Certainly, unlike most cats, they did not mind getting their feet wet, for they crossed the stream four times. 156 MORE LIONS At last the twining paths in the shoulder-high grass fanned out separately. We counted. “You were right, Mavrouki,” said I, ‘‘there were eight.” At the end of each path was a beaten-down little space where evidently the beasts had been lying down. With an exclamation the three gunbearers darted forward to investigate. The lairs were still warm! Their occupants had evidently made off only at our approach! Not five minutes later we were halted by a low warning growl right ahead. We stopped. The boys squatted on their heels close to me, and we con- sulted in whispers. Of course it would be sheer madness to attack eight lions in grass so high we could not see five feet in front of us. That went without saying. On the other hand, Mavrouki swore that he had yester- day seen no small cubs with the band, and our ex- amination of the tracks made in soft earth seemed to bear him out. The chances were therefore that, unless themselves attacked or too close pressed, the lions would not attack us. By keeping just in their rear we might be able to urge them gently along un- til they should enter more open cover. Then we could see. Therefore we gave the owner of that growl about 157 THE LAST FRONTIER five minutes to forget it, and then advanced very cautiously. We soon found where the objector had halted, and plainly read by the indications where he had stood for a moment or so, and then moved on. We slipped along after. For five hours we hung at the heels of that band of lions, moving very slowly, perfectly willing to halt whenever they told us to, and going forward again only when we became convinced that they too had gone on. Except for the first half hour, we were never more than twenty or thirty yards from the nearest lion, and often much closer. Three or four times I saw slowly gliding yellow bodies just ahead of me, but in the circumstances it would have been sheer stark lunacy to have fired. Probably six or eight times—I did not count — we were commanded to stop, and we did stop. It was very exciting work, but the men never fal- tered. Of course I went first, in case one of the beasts had the toothache or otherwise did not play up to our calculations on good nature. One or the other of the gunbearers was always just behind me. Only once was any comment made. Kongoni looked very closely into my face. “There are very many lions,” he remarked doubt- fully. 158 "]yeo [Jor 10y dn pour eyes oy, i 2 ee 2 > 4 ( YIOM 0} JOS USUI SIY puv BSURS PY S[RLIAVUT MBI 9914} ISI} YIM, MORE LIONS “Very many lions,” I agreed, as though assent- ing to a mere statement of fact. Although I am convinced there was no real dan- ger, as long as we stuck to our plan of campaign, nevertheless it was quite interesting to be for so long a period so near these great brutes. They led us for a mile or so along the course of the stream, some- times on one side, sometimes on the other. Several times they emerged into better cover, and even into the open, but always ducked back into the thick again before we ourselves had followed their trail to the clear. At noon we were halted by the usual growl just as we had reached the edge of the river. So we sat down on the banks and had lunch. Finally our chance came. The trail led us, for the dozenth time, from the high grass into the thicket along the river. We ducked our heads to enter. Memba Sasa, next my shoulder, snapped his fingers violently. Following the direction of the brown arm that shot over my shoulder, J strained my eyes into the dimness of the thicket. At first I could see noth- ing at all, but at length a slight motion drew my eye. Then I made out the silhouette of a lion’s -head, facing us steadily. One of the rear guard had again turned to halt us, but this time where he and his surroundings could be seen. 159 THE LAST FRONTIER Luckily I always use a sheard gold bead sight, and even in the dimness of the tree-shaded thicket it showed up well. The beast was only forty yards away, so I fired at his head. He rolled over without a sound. We took the usual great precautions in determin- ing the genuineness of his demise, then carried him into the open. Strangely enough the bullet had gone so cleanly into his left eye that it had not even broken the edge of the eyelid; so that when skinned he did not show a mark. He was a very decent maned lion, three feet four inches at the shoulder, and nine feet long as he lay. We found that he had indeed been the rear guard, and that the rest, on the other side of the thicket, had made off at the shot. So in spite of the apparent danger of the situation, our calculations had worked out perfectly. Also we had enjoyed a half day’s sport of an intensity quite impossible to be extracted from any other method of following the lion. In trying to guess how any particular lions may act, however, you will find yourself often at fault. The lion is a very intelligent and crafty beast, and addicted to tricks. If you follow a lion to a small hill, it is well to go around that hill on the side op- posite to that taken by your quarry. You are quite likely to meet him for he is clever enough thus to try 160 MORE LIONS to getin yourrear. He will lie until you have act- ually passed him before breaking off. He will cir- cle ahead, then back to confuse his trail. And when you catch sight of him in the distance, you would never suspect that he knew of your presence at all. He saunters slowly, apparently aimlessly, along, pausing often, evidently too bored to take any in- terest in life. You wait quite breathlessly for him to pass behind cover. Then you are going to make a very rapid advance, and catch his leisurely re- treat. But the moment old Leo does pass behind the cover, his appearance of idle stroller vanishes. In a dozen bounds he is gone. That is what makes lion hunting delightful. There are some regions, very near settlements, where it is perhaps justifiable to poison these beasts. If you are a true sportsman you will confine your hound-hunting to those districts. Elsewhere, as far as playing fair with a noble beast is concerned, you may as well toss a coin to see which you shall take — your pack or a strychnine bottle. 161 XII ON THE MANAGING OF A SAFARI E, MADE our way slowly down the river. As the elevation dropped, the temperature rose. It was very hot indeed during the day, and in the evening the air was tepid and caressing, and musical with the hum of insects. We sat about quite com- fortably in our pajamas, and took our fifteen grains of quinine per week against the fever. The character of the jungle along the river changed imperceptibly, the dhum palms crowding out the other trees; until, at our last camp, were nothing but palms. The wind in them sounded variously like the patter or the gathering onrush of rain. On either side the country remained unchanged, however. The volcanic hills rolled away to the distant ranges. Everywhere grew sparsely the low thornbrush, opening sometimes into clear plains, closing sometimes into dense thickets. One morning we awoke to find that many sup- posedly sober-minded trees had burst into blos- som fairly 'over night. They were red, and 162 MANAGING A SAFARI yellow and white that before were green, a truly gorgeous sight. Then we turned sharp to the right and began to ascend a little tributary brook coming down the wide flats from a cleft in the hills. This was pret- tily named the Isiola, and, after the first mile or so, was not big enough to afford the luxury of a jungle of its own. Its banks were generally grassy and steep, its thickets few, and its little trees isolated in parklike spaces. To either side of it, and almost at its level, stretched plains, but plains grown with scattered brush and shrubs so that at a mile or two one’s vista was closed. But for all its scant ten feet of width the Isiola stood upon its dignity as a stream. We discovered that when we tried to cross. The men floundered waist-deep on uncertain bottom; the syces received much unsympathetic comment for their handling of the animals, and we had to get Billy over by a melodramatic “bridge of life” with B., F., myself, and Memba Sasa in the title réles. Then we pitched camp in the open on the other side, sent the: horses back from the stream until after dark, in fear of the deadly tsetse fly, and pre- pared to enjoy a good exploration of the neighbour- hood. Whereupon M’ganga rose up to his gaunt and terrific height of authority, stretched forth his bony arm at right angles, and uttered between eight 163 THE LAST FRONTIER and nine thousand commands in a high dynamic monotone without a single pause for breath. ‘These, supplemented by about as many more, resulted in (a) a bridge across the stream, and (b) a banda. A banda is a delightful African institution. It springs from nothing in about two hours, but it takes twenty boys with a vitriolic M’ganga back of them to bring it about. Some of them carry huge backloads of grass, or papyrus, or cat-tail rushes, as the case may be; others lug in poles of various lengths from where their comrades are cutting them by means of their pangas. A panga, parenthetically, is the safari man’s substitute for axe, shovel, pick, knife, sickle, lawn-mower, hammer, gatling gun, world’s library of classics, higher mathematics, grand opera, and toothpicks. It looks rather like a ma- chete with a very broad end and a slight curved back. A good man can do extraordinary things with it. Indeed, at this moment, two boys are with this ap- parently clumsy implement delicately peeling some of the small thorn trees, from the bared trunks of which they are stripping long bands of tough inner bark. With these three raw materials — poles, withes, and grass — M’ganga and his men set to work. They planted their corner and end poles, they laid their rafters, they completed their framework, bind- 164 MANAGING A SAFARI ing all with the tough withes; then deftly they thatched it with the grass. Almost before we had settled our own affairs, M’ganga was standing be- fore us smiling. Gone now was his mien of high indignation and swirling energy. “Banda naquisha,” he informed us. And we moved in our table and our canvas chairs; hung up our water bottles; Billy got out her fancy work. Nothing could be pleasanter nor more ap- propriate to the climate than this wide low arbour, open at either end to the breezes, thatched so thickly that the fierce sun could nowhere strike through. The men had now settled down to a knowledge of what we were like; and things were going smoothly. At first the African porter will try it on to see just how easy you are likely to prove. If he makes up his mind that you really are easy, then you are in for infinite petty annoyance, and possibly open mutiny. ‘Therefore, for a little while, it is necessary to be extremely vigilant, to insist on minute per- formance in all circumstances where later you might condone an omission. For the same reason punish- ment must be more frequent and more severe at the outset. It is all a matter of watching the temper of the men. [If they are cheerful and willing, you are not nearly as particular as you would be were their spirit becoming sullen. ‘Then the infraction is not 165 THE LAST FRONTIER sO important in itself as an excuse for the punish- ment. For when your men get sulky, you watch vigilantly for the first and faintest excuse to inflict punishment. This game always seemed to me very fascinating, when played right. It is often played wrong. People do not look far enough. Because they see that punishment has a most salutary effect on morale, and is sometimes efficacious in getting things done that otherwise would lag, they jump to the conclusion that the only effective way to handle a safari is by penalties. By this I do not at all mean that they act savagely, or punish to brutal excess. Merely they hold rigidly to the letter of the work and the day’s discipline. Because it is sometimes necessary to punish severely slight infractions when the men’s tempers need sweetening, they always punish slight infractions severely. And in ordinary circumstances this method un- doubtedly results in a very efficient safari. Things are done smartly, on time, with a snap. The day’s march begins without delay; there is a minimum of straggling; on arrival the tents are immediately got up and the wood and water fetched. But in a tight place, men so handled by invariable rule are very apt to sit down apathetically, and put the whole thing up tothe white man. When it comes time to help 166 MANAGING A SAFARI out they are not there. The contrast with a well- disposed safari cannot be appreciated by one who has not seen both. The safari-man loves a master. He does not for a moment understand any well-meant but mis- placed efforts on your part to lighten his work below the requirements of custom. Always he will beg you to ease upon him, to accord him favour; and al- ways he will despise you if you yield. The relations of man to man, of man to work, are all long since established by immemorial distaurt — custom — and it is not for you or him to change them lightly. If you know what he should or can do, and hold him rigidly to it, he will respect and follow you. But in order to keep him up to the mark, it is not always advisable to light into him with a whip, necessary as the whip often is. If he is sullen, or inclined to make mischief, then that is the crying requirement. But if he is merely careless, or a little slow, or tired, you can handle him in other ways. Ridicule before his comrades is very effective: a sort of good-natured guying, I mean. ‘Ah! very tired!” uttered in the right tone of voice has brought many a loiterer to his feet as effectively as the kick some men feel must always be bestowed, and quite with- out anger, mind you! For days at a time we have kept our men travelling at good speed by comment- 167 THE LAST FRONTIER ing, as though by the way, after we had arrived in camp, on which tribe happened to come in at the head. “Ah! Kavirondos came in first to-night,’ we would remark. ‘‘Last night the Monumwezis were ahead.” And once, actually, by this method we succeeded in working up such a feeling of rivalry that the Kikuyus, the unambitious, weak and despised Kiku- yus, led the van! But the first hint of insubordination, of intended insolence, of wilful shirking must be met by instant authority. Occasionally, when the situation is of the quick and sharp variety, the white man may have to mix in the row himself. He must never hesitate an instant; for the only reason he alone can control so many is that he has always controlled them. F. had a very effective blow, or shove, which I found well worth adopting. It is delivered with the heel of the palm to the man’s chin, and is more of a lift- ing, heaving shove than an actual blow. Its effect is immediately upsetting. Impertinence is best dealt with in this manner on the spot. Evidently intended slowness in coming when called is also best treated by a flick of the whip — and forget- fulness. And so with a half dozen others. But any more serious matter should be decided from the 168 MANAGING A SAFARI throne of the canvas chair, witness should be heard, judgment formally pronounced, and execution in- trusted to the askaris or gunbearers. It is, as I have said, a most interesting game. It demands three sorts of knowledge: first, what a safari man is capable of doing; second, what he customarily should or should not do; third, an ability to read the actual intention or motive back of his actions. When you are able to punish or hold your hand on these principles, and not merely because things have or have not gone smoothly or right, then you are a good safari manager. There are mighty few of them. As for punishment, that is quite simply the whip. The average writer on the country speaks of this with hushed voice and averted face as a necessity but as something to be deprecated and passed over as quickly as possible. He does this because he thinks he ought to. As a matter of fact, such an attitude is all poppycock. In the flogging of a white man, or a black who suffers from such a punishment in his soul as well as his body, this is all very well. But the safari man expects it, it doesn’t hurt his feelings in the least, it is ancient custom. As well sentimentalize over necessary schoolboy punishment, or over father paddy-whack- ing little Willie when little Willie has been a bad 169 THE LAST FRONTIER boy. The chances are your porter will leap to his feet, crack his heels together and depart with a whoop of joy, grinning from ear to ear. Or he may draw himself up and salute you, military fashion, again with a grin. In any case his “‘soul” is not “‘seared” a little bit, and there is no sense in your- self feeling about it as though it were. At another slant the justice you will dispense to your men differs from our own. Again this is be- cause of the teaching long tradition has made part of their mental make-up. Our own belief is that it is better to let two guilty men go than to punish one innocent. With natives it is the other way about. If a crime is committed the guilty must be punished. Preferably he alone is to be dealt with; but in case it is impossible to identify him, then all the members of the first inclusive unit must be brought to ac- count. This is the native way of doing things; is the only way the native understands; and is the only way that in his mind true justice is answered. Thus if a sheep is stolen, the thief must be caught and punished. Suppose, however it is known to what family the thief belongs, but the family refuses to disclose which of its members committed the theft: then each member must be punished for sheep steal- ing; or if not the family, then the tribe must make restitution. But punishment must be inflicted. 170 MANAGING A SAFARI There is an essential justice to recommend this, outside the fact that it has with the native all the solidity of accepted ethics, and it certainly helps to run the real criminal to earth. The innocent some- times suffers innocently, but not very often; and our own records show that in that respect with us it is the same. ‘This is not the place to argue the right or wrong of the matter from our own standpoint but to recognize the fact that it is right from theirs, and to act accordingly. Thus in case of theft of meat, or something that cannot be traced, it is well to call up the witnesses, to prove the alibis, and then to place the issue squarely up to those that remain. There may be but two, or there may be a dozen. “T know you did not all steal the meat,” you must say, “but I know that one of you did. Unless I know which one that is by to-morrow morning I will kiboko all of you. Bass!” Perhaps occasionally you may have to kiboko the lot, in the full knowledge that most are innocent. That seems hard; and your heart will misgive you. Harden it. The “innocent” probably know per- fectly well who the guilty man is. And the inci- dent builds for the future. I had intended nowhere to comment on the poli- tics or policies of the country. Nothing is more silly than the casual visitor’s snap judgments on 171 THE LAST FRONTIER how acountry is run. Nevertheless, I may perhaps be pardoned for suggesting that the Government would strengthen its hand, and aid its few straggling settlers by adopting this native view of retributions. For instance, at present it is absolutely impossible to identify individual sheep and cattle stealers. They operate stealthily and at night. If the Gov- ernment cannot identify the actual thief, it gives the matter up. As a consequence a great hardship is inflicted on the settler, and an evil increases. If, however, the Government would hold the vil- lage, the district, or the tribe responsible, and exact just compensation from such units in every case, the evil would very suddenly come to an end. And the native’s respect for the white man would climb in the scale. Once the safari man gets confidence in his master, that confidence iscomplete. ‘The white man’s duties are in his mind clearly defined. His job is to see that the black man is fed, is watered, is taken care of in every way. ‘The ordinary porter considers him- self quite devoid of responsibility. He is also an improvident creature, for he drinks all his water when he gets thirsty, no matter how long and hot the journey before him; he eats his rations all up when he happens to get hungry, two days before next dis- tribution time; he straggles outrageously at times 172 MANAGING A SAFARI and has to be rounded up; he works three months and, on a whim, deserts two days before the end of his journey, thus forfeiting all his wages. Once two porters came to us for money. “What for?” asked C. “To buy a sheep,” said they. For two months we had been shooting them all the game meat they couldeat, but on this occasion two days had intervened since the last kill. If they had been on trading safari they would have had no meat at all. A sheep cost six rupees in that country: and they were getting but ten rupees a month as wages. In viewof the circumstances, and for their own good, we refused. Another man once insisted on purchasing a cake of violet-scented soap for a rupee. Their chief idea of a wild time in Nairobi, after return from a long safari, is to sit in a chair and drink tea. For this they pay exorbitantly at the Somali so-called “hotels.” It is a strange sight. But then, I have seen cowboys off the range or lumberjacks from the river do equally extrav- agant and foolish things. On the other hand they carry their loads well, they march tremendously, they know their camp duties and they do them. Under adverse circum- stances they are good-natured. I remember C. and I, being belated and lost in a driving rain. We wan- 173 THE LAST FRONTIER dered until nearly midnight. The four or five men with us were loaded heavily with the meat and tro- phy of aroan. Certainly they must have been very tired; for only occasionally could we permit them to lay down their loads. Most of the time we were actually groping, over boulders, volcanic rocks, fallen trees and all sorts of tribulation. The men took it as a huge joke, and at every pause laughed consumedly. In making up a safari one tries to mix in four or five tribes. ‘This prevents concerted action in case of trouble, for no one tribe will help another. They vary both in tribal and individual characteristics, of course. For example, the Kikuyus are docile but mediocre porters; the Kavirondos strong carriers but turbulent and difficult to handle. You are very lucky if you happen on a camp jester, one of the sort that sings, shouts, or jokes while on the march. He is probably not much as a porter, but he is worth his wages nevertheless. He may or may not aspire to his giddy eminence. We had one droll- faced little Kavirondo whose very expression made one laugh, and whose rueful remarks on the harsh- ness of his lot finally ended by being funny. His name got to be a catchword in camp. ““Mualo! Mualo!” the men would cry, as they heaved their burdens to their heads; and all day 174 MANAGING A SAFARI long their war cry would ring out, ‘Mualo!” fol- lowed by shrieks of laughter. Of the other type was Sulimani, a big, one-eyed Monumwezi, who had a really keen wit coupled with an earnest, solemn manner. This man was no buffoon, however; and he was a good porter, always at or near the head of the procession. In the great jungle south of Kenia we came upon Cuninghame. When the head of our safari reached the spot Suli- mani left the ranks and, his load still aloft danced solemnly in front of Cuninghame, chanting some- thing in a loud tone of voice. Then with a final deep ‘“‘Jambo!” to his old master he rejoined the safari. When the day had stretched to weariness and the men had fallen to a sullen plodding, Suli- mani’s vigorous song could always set the safari sticks tapping the sides of the chop boxes. He carried part of the tent, and the next best men were entrusted with the cook outfit and our personal effects. It was a point of honour with these men to be the first in camp. The rear, the very extreme and straggling rear, was brought up by worthless porters with loads of cornmeal — and the weary askaris whose duty it was to keep astern and herd the lot in. 175 XIV A DAY ON THE ISIOLA ARLY one morning —we were still on the Isiola — we set forth on our horses to ride across the rolling, brush-grown plain. Our inten- tion was to proceed at right angles to our own little stream until we had reached the forest growth of another, which we could dimly make out eight or ten miles distant. Billy went with us, so there were four a-horseback. Behind us trudged the gun- bearers, and the syces, and after them straggled a dozen or fifteen porters. The sun was just up, and the air was only tepid as yet. From patches of high grass whirred and rocketed grouse of two sorts. They were so much like our own ruffed grouse and prairie chicken that I could with no effort imagine myself once more a> boy in the coverts of the Middle West. Only before us we could see the stripes of trotting zebra disap- pearing; and catch the glint of light on the bayonets of the oryx. ‘Two giraffes galumphed away to the right. Little grass antelope darted from clump to 176 F A DAY ON THE ISIOLA ° clump of grass. Once we saw gerenule—oh, far away in an impossible distance. Of cougse we tried to stalk them; and as usual we failed. ‘The gerenuk we had come to look upon as our Lesse®Hoodoo. The beast is a gazelle about as big as a black- tailed deer. His peculiarity is his excessively long neck, a good deal on the giraffe order. With it he crops browse above high tide mark of other animals, especially when as often happens he balances cleverly on his hind legs. By means of it also he can, with his body completely concealed, look over the top of ordinary cover and see you long before you have made out his inconspicuous little head. Then he departs. He seems to have a lamentable lack of healthy curiosity about you. In that respect he should take lessons from the kongoni. After that you can follow him as far as you please; you will get only glimpses at three or four hundred yards. We remounted sadly and rode on. The surface of the ground was rather soft, scattered with round rocks the size of a man’s head, and full of pig holes. ‘Cheerful country to ride over at speed,”’ remarked Billy. Later in the day we had occasion to remem- ber that statement. The plains led us ever on. First would be a band of scattered brush growing singly and in small clumps: then a little open prairie; then a narrow, 177 a %y @. & Big * THE LAST FRONTIER long grass §wale; then perhaps a low, long hill with small singlg trees and rough, volcanic footing. Ten ae ings kept us interested. Game was everywhere, feeding singly, in groups, in herds, game of dll sizes and descriptions. The rounded ears of jackals pointed at us from the grass. Hun- dreds of birds balanced or fluttered about us, birds of all sizes from the big ground hornbill to the lit- tlest hummers and sun birds. Overhead, across the wonderful variegated sky of Africa the broad- winged carrion hunters and birds of prey wheeled. In all our stay on the Isiola we had not seen a single rhino track, so we rode quite care free and happy. Finally, across a glade, not over a hundred and fifty yards away, we saw a solitary bull oryx stand- ing under a bush. B. wanted an oryx. We dis- cussed this one idly. He looked to be a decent oryx, but nothing especial. However, he offered a very good shot; so B., after some hesitation, decided to take it. It proved to be by far the best specimen we shot, the horns measuring thirty-six and three fourths inches! Almost immediately after, two of the rather rare striped hyenas leaped from the grass and departed rapidly over the top of a hill. We opened fire, and F. dropped one of them. By the time these trophies were prepared, the sun had mounted high in the heavens, and it was getting hot. 178 A DAY ON THE ISIOLA Accordingly we abandoned that still distant river and swung away in a wide circle to return to camp. Several minor adventures brought us to high noon and the heat of the day. B. had succeeded in drawing a prize, one of the Grevy’s or mountain zebra. He and the gunbearers engaged themselves with that, while we sat under the rather scanty shade of a small thorn tree and had lunch. Here we had a favourable chance to observe that very common, but always wonderful phenomenon, the gathering of the carrion birds. Within five minutes after the stoop of the first vulture above the carcass, the sky im- mediately over that one spot was fairly darkened with them. They were as thick as midges — or as ducks used to be in California. All sizes were there from the little carrion crows to the great dignified vultures and marabouts and eagles. The small fry flopped and scolded, and rose and fell in a dense mass; the marabouts walked with dignified pace to and fro through the grass all about. As far as the eye could penetrate the blue, it could make out more and yet more of the great soarers stooping with half bent wings. Below we could see uncertainly through the shimmer of the mirage the bent forms of the men. We ate and waited; and after a little we dozed. I was awakened suddenly by a tremendous rushing 179 THE LAST FRONTIER roar, like the sound of a not too distant waterfall. The group of men were plodding toward us carrying burdens. And like plummets the birds were dropping straight down from the heavens, spreading wide their wings at the last moment to check their speed. This made the roaring sound that had awakened me. A wide spot in the shimmer showed black and struggling against the ground. I arose and walked over, meeting halfway B. and the men carrying the meat. It took me probably about two minutes to reach the place where the zebra had been killed. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of the great birds were standing idly about; a dozen or so were flap- ping and scrambling in the centre. I stepped into view. With a mighty commotion they all took wing clumsily, awkwardly, reluctantly. A trampled, bloody space and the larger bones, picked absolutely clean, was all that remained! In less than two minutes the job had been done! **You’re certainly good workmen!” I exclaimed, “but I wonder how you all make a living!” We started the men on to camp with the meat, and ourselves rested under the shade. The day had been a full and interesting one; but we considered it as finished. Remained only the hot journey back to camp. . 180 od onl a ) N A ma) iS o fae Oo A DAY ON THE ISIOLA After a half hour we mounted again and rode on slowly. ‘The sun was very strong and a heavy shim- mer clothed the plain. Through this shimmer we caught sight of something large and black and flap- ping. It looked like a crow —or, better, a scare- crow — crippled, half flying, half running, with waving wings or arms, now dwindling, now gigantic as the mirage caught it up or let it drop. As we watched, it developed, and we made it out to be a porter, clad in a long, ragged black overcoat, run- ning zigzag through the bushes in our direction. The moment we identified it we spurred our horses forward. As my horse leaped, Memba Sasa snatched the Springfield from my left hand and forced the 405 Winchester upon me. Clever Memba Sasa! He no more than we knew what was up, but shrewdly concluded that whatever it was it needed a heavy gun. As we galloped to meet him, the porter stopped. We saw him to be a very long-legged, raggedy youth whom we had nicknamed the Marabout because of his exceedingly long, lean legs, the fact that his breeches were white, short and baggy, and because he kept his entire head shaved close. He called him- self Fundi, which means The Expert, a sufficient indication of his confidence in himself. He waited us leaning on his safari stick, panting 181 THE LAST FRONTIER heavily, the sweat running off his face in splashes. “ “In short, it was a genuine, scientific, well-kept golf course.’ IN THE JUNGLE After appropriate greetings, we learned that these were the chief and his prime minister of a nearby village hidden in the jungle. We exchanged polite phrases; then offered tobacco. This was accepted. From the jungle came a youth carrying more ba- nanas. We indicated our pleasure. The old men arose with great dignity and departed, sweeping the women and children before them. We rode on. Our acquired retinue, which had waited at a respectful distance, went on too. I suppose they must have desired the prestige of be- ing attached to Our Persons. In the depths of the forest Billy succumbed to the temptation to bargain, and made her first trade. Her prize was a long water gourd strapped with leather and decorated with cowry shells. Our boys were completely scandalized at the price she paid for it, so I fear the wily savage got ahead of her. About the middle of the afternoon we sat down to wait for the safari to catch up. It would never do to cheat our boys out of their anticipated grand en- trance to the Government post at Meru. We finally debouched from the forest to the great clearing at the head of a most impressive procession, flags flying, oryx horns blowing, boys chanting and beating the sides of their loads with the safari sticks. As there happened to be gathered, at this time, several thou- 233 THE LAST FRONTIER sand of warriors for the purpose of a council, or shauri, with the District Commissioner we had just the audience to delight our barbaric hearts. (b) MERU The Government post at Meru is situated in a clearing won from the forest on the first gentle slopes of Kenia’s ranges. The clearing is a very large one, and on it the grass grows green and short, like a lawn. It resembles, as much as anything else, the rolling, beautiful downs of a first-class country club: and the illusion is enhanced by the Commissioner’s house among some trees atop a hill. Well-kept roadways railed with rustic fences lead from the house to the native quarters lying in the hollow and to the Government offices atop another hill. Then also there are the quarters of the Nubian troops; round low houses with conical grass roofs. These, and the presence everywhere of savages, rather take away from the first country-club effect. A corral seemed full of a seething mob of natives; we found later that this was the market, a place of exchange. Groups wandered idly here and there across the greensward; and other groups sat in cir- cles under the shade of trees, each man’s spear stuck in the ground behind him. At stated points were the Nubians, fine, tall, black, soldierly men, with 234 IN THE JUNGLE red fez, khaki shirt, and short breeches, bare knees and feet, spiral puttees, and a broad red sash of webbing. One of these soldiers assigned us a place to camp. We directed our safari there, and then immediately rode over to pay our respects to the Commissioner. The latter, Horne by name, greeted us with the utmost cordiality, and offered us cool drinks. Then we accompanied him to a grand shauri or council of chiefs. Horne was a little chap, dressed in flannels and a big slouch hat, carrying only a light rawhide whip, with very little of the dignity and ‘“‘side” usually considered necessary in dealing with wild natives. The post at Meru had been established only two years, among a people that had always been very difficult, and had only recently ceased open hos- tilities. Nevertheless in that length of time Horne’s personal influence had won them over to positive friendliness. He had, moreover, done the entire con- struction work of the post itself; and this we now saw to be even more elaborate than we had at first realized. Irrigating ditches ran in all directions brimming with clear mountain water; the roads and paths were rounded, graded and gravelled; the houses were substantial, well built and well kept; fences, except of course the rustic, were whitewashed; 235 THE LAST FRONTIER the native quarters and “barracks” were well ar- ranged and in perfect order. The place looked ten years old instead of only two. We followed Horne to an enclosure, outside the gate of which were stacked a great number of spears. Inside we found the owners of those spears squatted before the open side of a small, three-walled build- ing containing a table and a chair. Horne placed himself in the chair, lounged back, and hit the table smartly with his rawhide whip. From the centre of the throng an old man got up and made quite a long speech. When he had finished another did likewise. All was carried out with the greatest de- corum. After four or five had thus spoken, Horne, without altering his lounging attitude, spoke twenty or thirty words, rapped again on the table with his rawhide whip, and immediately came over to us. ““Now,”’ said he cheerfully, ‘‘we’ll have a game of golf.” That was amusing, but not astonishing. Most of us have at one time or another laid out a scratch hole or so somewhere in the vacant lot. We re- turned to the house, Horne produced a sufficiency of ~ clubs, and we sallied forth. Then came the sur- prise of our life! We played eighteen holes — eigh- teen, mind you — over an excellently laid-out and kept-up course! The fair greens were cropped short 236 IN THE JUNGLE and smooth by a well-managed small herd of sheep; the putting greens were rolled, and in perfect order; bunkers had been located at the correct distances; there were water hazards in the proper spots. In short, it was a genuine, scientific, well-kept golf course. Over it played Horne, solitary except on the rare occasions when he and his assistant happened to be at the post at the same time. The nearest white man was six days’ journey; the nearest small civil- ization 196 miles.* The whole affair was most astounding. Our caddies were grinning youngsters a good deal like the Gold Dust Twins. They wore nothing but our golf bags. Afield were other supernumerary caddies: one in case we sliced, one in case we pulled, and one in case we drove straight ahead. Horne explained that unlimited caddies were easier to get than unlimited golf balls. I can well believe it. F. joined forces with Horne against B. and me for a grand international match. I regret to state that America was defeated by two holes. We returned to find our camp crowded with sav- ages. In a short time we had established trade re- lations and were doing a brisk business. ‘Two years before we should have had to barter exclusively; but now, thanks to Horne’s attempt to collect an annual *Which was, in turn, oyer three hundred miles from the next, 237 THE LAST FRONTIER hut tax, money was some good. We had, however, very good luck with bright blankets and cotton cloth. Our beads did not happen here to be in fashion. Probably three months earlier or later we might have done better with them. The feminine mind here differs in no basic essential from that of civilization. Fashions change as rapidly, as often and as completely in the jungle as in Paris. The trader who brings blue beads when blue beads have “sone out” might just as well have stayed at home. We bought a number of the pretty “marquise” rings for four cents apiece (our money), some war clubs or rungas for the same, several spears, armlets, stools and the like. Billy thought one of the short, soft skin cloaks embroidered with steel beads might be nice to hang on the wall. We offered a youth two rupees for one. ‘This must have been a high price, for every man in hearing of the words snatched off his cloak and rushed forward holding it out. As that reduced his costume to a few knick-knacks, Billy retired from the busy mart until we could arrange matters. We dined with Horne. His official residence was most interesting. ‘The main room was very high to beams and a grass-thatched roof, with a well- brushed earth floor covered with mats. It contained comfortable furniture, a small library, a good phono- 238 IN THE JUNGLE graph, tables, lamps and the like. When the moun- tain chill descended, Horne lit a fire in a coal-oil can with a perforated bottom. What little smoke was produced by the clean burning wood lost itself far aloft. Leopard skins and other trophies hung on the wall. We dined in another room at a well- appointed table. After dinner we sat up until the unheard of hour of ten o’clock discussing at length many matters that interested us. Horne told us of his personal bodyguard consisting of one son from each chief of his wide district. These youths were encouraged to make as good an appearance as pos- sible, and as a consequence turned out in the extreme of savage gorgeousness. Horne spoke of them care- lessly as a “‘matter of policy in keeping the different tribes well disposed,” but I thought he was at heart a little proud of them. Certainly, later and from other sources, we heard great tales of their endur- ance, devotion and efficiency. Also we heard that Horne had cut in half his six months’ leave (earned by three years’ continuous service in the jungle) to hurry back from England because he could not bear the thought of being absent from the first collection of the hut tax! He is a good man. We said good-night to him and stepped from the lighted house into the vast tropical night. The little rays of our lantern showed us the inequalities of the 239 THE LAST FRONTIER ground, and where to step across the bubbling, little irrigation streams. But thousands of stars insisted on a simplification. ‘The broad, rolling meadows of the clearing lay half guessed in the dim light; and about its edge was the velvet band of the forest, dark and mysterious, stretching away for leagues into the jungle. From it near at hand, far away, came the rhythmic beating of solemn great drums, and the rising and falling chants of the savage peoples. (c) THE CHIEFS We left Meru well observed by a very large au- dience, much to the delight of our safari boys, who love to show off. We had acquired fourteen more small boys, or totos, ranging in age from eight to twelve years. These had been fitted out by their masters to alleviate their original shenzi appear- ance of savagery. Some had ragged blankets, which they had already learned to twist turban wise around their heads; others had ragged old jerseys reaching to their knees, or the wrecks of full-grown undershirts; one or two even sported baggy breeches a dozen sizes too large. Each carried his little load, proudly, atop his head like a real porter, sufurias or cooking pots, the small bags of potio, and the like. Inside a mile they had gravitated together and with 240. IN THE JUNGLE the small boy’s relish for imitation and for playing a game, had completed a miniature safari organiza- tion of their own. Thenceforth they marched in a compact little company, under orders of their ‘‘ head- man.” ‘They marched very well, too, straight and proud and tireless. Of course we inspected their loads to see that they were not required to carry too much for their strength; but, I am bound to say, we never discovered an attempt at overloading. In fact, the toto brigade was treated very well indeed. M’ganga especially took great interest in their educa- tion and welfare. One of my most vivid camp recol- lections is that of M’ganga, very benign and didactic, seated on a chop box and holding forth to a semi- circle of totos squatted on the ground before him. On reaching camp totos had several clearly defined duties: they must pick out good places for their masters’ individual camps, they must procure cook- ing stones, they must collect kindling wood and start fires, they must fill the sufurias with water and set them over to boil. In the meantime, their mas- ters were attending to the pitching of the bwana’s camp. ‘The rest of the time the toto played about quite happily, and did light odd jobs, or watched most attentively while his master showed him small details of a safari-boy’s duty, or taught him simple handicraft. Our boys seemed to take 241 THE LAST FRONTIER great pains with their totos and to try hard to teach them. Also at Meru we had acquired two cocks and four hens of the ridiculously small native breed. ‘These rode atop the loads: their feet were tied to the cords and there they swayed and teetered and balanced all day long, apparently quite happy and interested. At each new camp site they were released and went scratching and clucking around among the tents. They lent our temporary quarters quite a settled air of domesticity. We named the cocks Gaston and Alphonse and somehow it was rather fine, in the blackness before dawn, to hear these little birds crowing stout-heartedly against the great African wilderness. Neither Gaston, Alphonse nor any of their harem were killed and eaten by their owners; but seemed rather to fulfil the function of household pets. Along the jungle track we met swarms of people coming in to the post. One large native safari com- posed exclusively of women were transporting loads of trade goods for the Indian trader. They carried their burdens on their backs by means of a strap passing over the top of the head; our own ‘“‘tump line” method. The labour seemed in no way to have dashed their spirits, for they grinned at us, and joked merrily with our boys. Along the way, every 242 IN THE JUNGLE once in a while, we came upon people squatted down behind small stocks of sugarcane, yams, bananas, and the like. With these our boys did a brisk trade. Little paths led mysteriously into the jungle. Down them came more savages to greet us. Everybody was most friendly and cheerful, thanks to Horne’s personal influence. Two years before this same lot had been hostile. From every hidden village came the headmen or chiefs. They all wanted to shake hands —the ordinary citizen never dreamed of aspiring to that honour — and they all spat care- fully into their palms before they did so. This all had to be done in passing: for ordinary village head- men it was beneath Our Dignity to draw rein. Once only we broke over this rule. That was in the case of an old fellow with white hair who managed to get so tangled up in the shrubbery that he could not get to us. He was so frantic with disappoint- ment that we made an exception and waited. About three miles out, we lost one of our newly acquired totos. Reason: an exasperated parent, who had followed from Meru for the purpose of re- claiming his runaway offspring. The latter was dragged off howling. Evidently he, like some of ‘his civilized cousins, had “‘run away to join the circus.” As nearly as we could get at it, the rest of the totos, 'as well as the nine additional we picked up before 243 THE LAST FRONTIER we quitted the jungle, had all come with their par- ents’ consent. In fact, we soon discovered that we could buy any amount of good sound totos, not house broke however, for an average of half a rupee (163 cents) apiece. The road was very much up and down hill over the numerous ridges that star-fish out from Mt. Kenia. We would climb down steep trails from 200 to 800 feet (measured by aneroid), cross an excellent mountain stream of crystalline dashing water, and climb outagain. The trails of course had no notion of easy grades. It was very hard work, especially for men with loads; and it would have been impos- sible on account of the heat were it not for the nu- merous streams. On the slopes and in the bottoms were patches of magnificent forest; on the crests was the jungle, and occasionally an outlook over ex- tended views. ‘The birds and the strange tropical big-leaved trees were a constant delight — exotic and strange. Billy was in a heaven of joy, for her specialty in Africa was plants, seeds and bulbs, for her California garden. She had syces, gunbearers and tent boys all climbing, shaking branches, and generally pawing about. This idiosyncracy of Billy’s puzzled our boys hugely. At first they tried telling her that every- thing was poisonous; but when that did not work, 244 Meru. In the native quarters. Women grinding corn. “Tt resembles the rolling beautiful downs of a first-class 5 country club.” Meru. IN THE JUNGLE they resigned themselves to their fate. In fact, some of the most enterprising like Memba Sasa, Kitaru, and, later, Kongoni used of their own ac- cord to hunt up and bring in seeds and blossoms. They did not in the least understand what it was for; and it used to puzzle them hugely until out of sheer pity for their uneasiness, I implied that the Mem- sahib collected “‘medicine.”” That was rational, so the wrinkled brow of care was smoothed. From this botanical trait, Billy got her native name of ““Beebee Kooletta” — ‘‘The Lady Who Says: Go Get That.” For in Africa every white man has a name by which he is known among the native people. If you would get news of your friends, you must know their local cognomens — their own white man names will not do at all. For example, I was called either Bwana Machumwani or Bwana N’goma. The former means merely Master Four-eyes, referring to my glasses. The precise meaning of the latter is a matter much disputed between myself -and Billy. An N’goma is a native dance, consisting of drum poundings, chantings, and hoppings around. ‘There- fore I translate myself (most appropriately) as the Master who Makes Merry. On the other hand, Billy, with true feminine indirectness, insists that it means ‘““The Master who Shouts and Howls.” I leave it to any fairminded reader. 245 THE LAST FRONTIER About the middle of the morning we met a Govern- ment runner, a proud youth, young, lithe, with many ornaments and bangles; his red skin glisten- ing; the long blade of his spear, bound around with a red strip to signify his office, slanting across his shoulder; his buffalo hide shield slung from it over his back; the letter he was bearing stuck in a cleft stick and carried proudly before him as a priest’ carries a cross to the’ heathen — ieee pictures. He was swinging along at a brisk pace, but on seeing us drew up and gave us a smart mili- tary salute! At one point where the path went level and straight for some distance, we were riding in an absolute solitude. Suddenly from the jungle on either side and about fifty yards ahead of us leaped a dozen women. They were dressed in grass skirts, and carried long narrow wooden shields painted white and brown. These they clashed together, shrieked shrilly, and charged down on us at full speed. When within a few yards of our horses’ noses they came to a sudden halt, once more clashed their shields, shrieked, turned and scuttled away as fast as their legs could carry them. At a hundred yards they repeated the performance; and charged back at us again. Thus advancing and retreating, shrieking high, hitting the wooden shields with re- 246 IN THE JUNGLE sounding crash, they preceded our slow advance for a half mile or so. Then at some signal unperceived by us they vanished abruptly into the jungle. Once more we rode forward in silence and in soli- tude. Why they did it I could not say. Of this tissue were our days made. At noon our boys plucked us each two or three banana leaves which they spread down for us to lie on. Then we dozed through the hot hours in great comfort, oc- casionally waking to blue sky through green trees, or to peer idly into the tangled jungle. At two o’clock or a little later we would arouse ourselves reluctantly and move on. The safari we had dimly heard passing us an hour before. In this country of the direct track we did not attempt to accompany our men. The end of the day’s march found us in a little clearing where we could pitch camp. Generally this was atop a ridge, so that the boys had some dis- tance to carry water; but that disadvantage was out- weighed by the cleared space. Sometimes we found ourselves hemmed in by a wall of jungle. Again we enjoyed a broad outlook. One such in especial took in the magnificent, splintered, snow- capped peak of Kenia on the right, a tremendous gorge and rolling forested mountains straight ahead, and a great drop to a plain with other and distant 247 THE LAST FRONTIER mountains to the left. It was as fine a panoramic view as one could imagine. Our tents pitched, and ourselves washed and re- freshed, we gave audience to the resident chief, who had probably been waiting. With this potentate we conversed affably, after the usual expectoratorial ceremonies. Billy, being a mere woman, did not always come in for this; but nevertheless she main- tained what she called her ‘“‘quarantine gloves,” and kept them very handy. We had standing orders with our boys for basins of hot water to be waiting always behind our tents. After the usual polite exchanges we informed the chief of our needs — firewood, perhaps, milk, a sheep or the like. These he furnished. When we left we made him a present of a few beads, a knife, a blanket or such according to the value of his contribution. To me these encounters were some of the most in- teresting of our many experiences, for each man dif- fered radically from every other in his conceptions of ceremony, in his ideas, and in his methods. Our coming was a good deal of an event, always, and each chief, according to his temperament and train- ing, tried to do things up properly. And in that attempt certain basic traits of human nature showed in the very strongest relief. Thus there are three points of view to take in running any spectacle: 248 IN THE JUNGLE that of the star performer, the stage manager, or the truly artistic. We encountered well-marked speci- mens of each. I will tell you about them. The star performer knew his stagecraft thor- oughly; and in the exposition of his knowledge he showed incidentally how truly basic are the prin- ciples of stagecraft anywhere. We were seated under a tree near the banks of a stream eating our lunch. Before us appeared two tall and slender youths, wreathed in smiles, engaging, and most attentive to the small niceties of courtesy. We returned their greeting from our recumbent positions, whereupon they made preparation to squat down beside us. “Are you sultans?” we demanded sternly, “‘that you attempt to sit in Our Presence,” and we lazil kicked the nearest. Not at all abashed, but favourably impressed with our transcendent importance — as we intended — they leaned gracefully on their spears and entered into conversation. After a few trifles of airy persi- flage they got down to business. ““This,” said they, indicating the tiny flat, “‘is the most beautiful place to camp in all the mountains.” We doubted it. ““Here is excellent water.” ‘We agreed to that. 249 THE LAST FRONTIER “‘And there is no more water for a long day’s journey.” “You are liars,” we observed politely. “‘Anc near is the village of our chief, who is a great warrior, and will bring you many presents; the greatest man in these parts.” ““Now you’re getting to it,” we observed in Eng- lish; “‘you want trade.” Then in Swahili, “We shall march two hours longer.” 99 After a few polite phrases they went away. We finished lunch, remounted, and rode up the trail. At the edge of the cafion we came to a wide clearing, at the farther side of which was evidently the village in question. But the merry villagers, down to the last toto, were drawn up at the edge of the track in a double line through which we rode. ‘They were very wealthy savages, and wore it all. Bright neck, arm, and leg ornaments, yards and yards of cowry shells in strings, blue beads of all sizes (blue beads were evidently “‘in’’), odd scraps and shapes of embroi- dered skins, clean shaves and a beautiful polish char- acterized this holiday gathering. We made our royal progress between the serried ranks. About eight or ten seconds after we had passed the last vil- lager —just the proper dramatic pause, you ob- serve — the bushes parted and a splendid straight springy young man came into view and stepped 250 IN THE JUNGLE smilingly across the space that separated us. And about eight or ten seconds after his emergence — again just the right dramatic pause — the bushes parted again to give entrance to four of the quaint- est little dolls of wives. These advanced all abreast, parted, and took up positions two either side the smiling chief. This youth was evidently in the height of fashion, his hair braided in a tight queue bound with skin, his ears dangling with ornaments, heavy necklaces around his neck, and armlets etc., ad lib. His robe was of fine monkey skin embroi- ered with rosettes of beads, and his spear was very long, bright and keen. He was tall and finely built, carried himself with a free, lithe swing. As the quintette came to halt, the villagers fell silent and our shauri began. We drew up and dismounted. We all expecto- rated as gentlemen. “These,” said he proudly, “‘are my beebees.” We replied that they seemed like excellent beebees, and politely inquired the price of wives thereabout, and also the market for totos. He gave us to under- stand that such superior wives as these brought three cows and twenty sheep apiece, but that you could get a pretty good toto for half a rupee. “When we look upon our women,” he concluded grandly, “we find them good; but when we look upon 251 THE LAST FRONTIER the white women they are as nothing!” He com- pletely obliterated the poor little beebees with a magnificent gesture. They looked very humble and abashed. I was, however, a bit uncertain as to whether this was intended as a genuine tribute to Billy, or was meant to console us for having only one to his four. Now observe the stagecraft of all this: entrance of diplomats, preliminary conversation introducing the idea of the greatness of N’Zahgi (for that was his name), chorus of villagers, and, as climax, dramatic entrance of the hero and heroines. It was pretty well done. Again we stopped about the middle of the after- noon in an opening on the rounded top of a hill. While waiting for the safari to come up, Billy wan- dered away fifty or sixty yards to sit under a big tree. She did not stay long. Immediately she was settled, a dozen women and young girls surrounded her. They were almost uproariously good-natured, but Billy was probably the first white woman they had ever seen, and they intended to make the most of her. Every item of her clothes and equipment they ex- amined minutely, handled and discussed. When she told them with great dignity to go away, they laughed consumedly, fairly tumbling into each other’s arms with excess of joy. Billy tried to gather her effects 252 “They were evil looking savages.” .98pit ® doze sem sty} Ayfes9ues —dures youd pmnos am aiayM, IN THE JUNGLE for a masterly retreat, but found the press of num- bers too great. At last she had to signal for help. One of us wandered over with a kiboko with which lightly he flicked the legs of such damsels as he could reach. They scattered like quail, laughing hilari- ously. Billy was escorted back to safety. Shortly after the Chief and his Prime Minister camein. He wasa little old gray-haired gentleman, as spry as a cricket, quite nervous, and very chatty. We indicated our wants to him, and he retired after enunciating many words. ‘The safari came in, made camp. We had tea anda bath. The darkness fell; and still no Chief, no milk, no firewood, no promises fulfilled. ‘There were plenty of natives around camp, but when we suggested that they get out and rustle on our behalf, they merely laughed good-naturedly. We seriously contemplated turning the whole lot out of camp. Finally we gave it up, and sat down to our dinner. It was now quite dark. The askaris had built a little campfire out in front. Then, far in the distance of the jungle’s depths, we heard a faint measured chanting as of many people coming nearer. From another direction this was repeated. The two processions approached each other; their paths converged; the double chant- ing became a chorus that grew moment by moment, 253 THE LAST FRONTIER We heard beneath the wild weird minors the light rhythmic stamping of feet, and the tapping of sticks. The procession debouched from the jungle’s edge into the circle of the firelight. Our old chief led, accom- panied by a bodyguard in all the panoply of war: ostrich feather circlets enclosing the head and face, shields of bright heraldry, long glittering spears. These were followed by a dozen of the quaintest solemn dolls of beebees dressed in all the white cowry shells, beads and brass the royal treasury af- forded, very earnest, very much on inspection, every little head uplifted, singing away just as hard as ever they could. Each carried a gourd of milk, a bunch of bananas, some sugarcane, yams or the like. Straight to the fire marched the pageant. Then the warriors dividing right and left, drew up facing each other in two lines, struck their spears up- right in the ground, and stood at attention. The quaint brown little women lined up to close the end of this hollow square, of which our group was, roughly speaking, the fourth side. Then all came to attention. The song now rose to a wild and ecstat- tic minor chanting. The beebees, still singing, one by one cast their burdens between the files and at our feet in the middle of the hollow square. Then they continued their chant, singing away at the tops of their little lungs, their eyes and teeth showing, 254 IN THE JUNGLE their pretty bodies held rigidly upright. The war- riors, very erect and military, stared straight ahead. And the chief? Was he the centre of the show, the important leading man, to the contemplation of whom all these glories led? Not at all! This par- ticular chief did not have the soul of a leading man, but rather the soul of a stage manager. Quite for- getful of himself and his part in the spectacle, his brow furrowed with anxiety, he was flittering from one to another of the performers. He listened care- fully to each singer in turn, holding his hand behind his ear to catch the individual note, striking one on the shoulder in admonition, nodding approval at another. He darted unexpectedly across to scru- tinize a warrior, in the chance of catching a flicker of the eyelid even. Nary a flicker! They did their stage manager credit, and stood like magnificent bronzes. He even ran across to peer into our own faces to see how we liked it. With a sudden crescendo the music stopped. Involuntarily we broke into handclapping. The old boy looked a bit startled at this, but we ex- plained to him, and he seemed very pleased. We then accepted formally the heap of presents, by touching them — and in turn passed over a blanket, a box of matches, and two needles, together with beads for the beebees. Then F., on an inspiration, 255 THE LAST FRONTIER produced his flashlight. This made a tremendous sensation. The women tittered and giggled and blinked as its beams were thrown directly into their eyes; the chief’s sons grinned and guffawed; the chief himself laughed like a pleased schoolboy, and seemed never to weary of the sudden shutting on and off of the switch. But the trusty Spartan warriors, standing still in their formation behind their planted spears, were not to be shaken. ‘They glared straight in front of them, even when we held the light within a few inches of their eyes, and not a muscle quivered! “It is wonderful! wonderful!” the old man re- peated. ‘“‘Many Government men have come here, but none have had anything like that! The bwanas must be very great sultans!” After the departure of our friends, we went rather grandly to bed. We always did after any one had called us sultans. But our prize chief was an individual named M’booley.* Our camp here also was on a fine cleared hilltop between two streams. After we had traded for a while with very friendly and prosperous people M’booley came in. He was young, tall, straight, with a beautiful smooth lithe form, and his face was hawklike and cleverly intelligent. He carried him- self with the greatest dignity and simplicity, meeting *Pronounce each o separately. 256 “They were dressed in grass skirts and carried long shields.” ‘‘On the slopes and in the bottoms were patches of ficent forest.” magni IN THE JUNGLE us on an easy plane of familiarity. I do not know how I can better describe his manner toward us than to compare it to the manner the member of an exclusive golf club would use to one who is a stranger, but evidently a guest. He took our quality for granted; and supposed we must do the same by him, neither acting as though he considered us “‘sreat white men,” nor yet standing aloof and too respectful. And as the distinguishing feature of all, he was absolutely without personal ornament. Pause for a moment to consider what a real ad- vance in esthetic taste that one little fact stands for. All M’booley’s attendants were the giddiest and gaudiest savages we had yet seen, with more col- obus fur, sleighbells, polished metal, ostrich plumes, and red paint than would have fitted out any two other royal courts of the jungle. The women too were wealthy and opulent without limit. It takes considerable perception among our civilized people to realize that severe simplicity amid ultra magnificence makes the most effective distinguishing of an individual. If you do not believe it, drop in at the next ball to which you are invited. M’booley had fathomed this: and what was more he had the strength of mind to act on it. Any savage loves finery for its own sake. His hair was cut short, and shaved away at the edges to leave what looked like 257 THE LAST FRONTIER an ordinary close-fitting skull cap. He wore one pair of plain armlets on his left upper arm and small simple ear-rings. His robe was black. He had no trace of either oil or paint, nor did he even carry a spear. He greeted us with good-humoured ease, and in- quired conversationally if we wanted anything. We suggested wood and milk, whereupon still smiling, he uttered a few casual words in his own language to no one in particular. There was no earthly doubt that he was chief. Three of the most gorgeous and haughty warriors ran out of camp. Shortly long files of women came in bringing loads of firewood; and others carrying bananas, yams, sugarcane and a sheep. Truly M’booley did things on a princely scale. We thanked him. He accepted the thanks with a casual smile, waved his hand and went on to talk of something else. In due order our M’ganga brought up one of our best trade blankets, to which we added a half dozen boxes of matches and a razor. Now into camp filed a small procession: four women, four children, and two young men. These advanced to where M’booley was standing smoking with great satisfaction one of B’s tailor-made ciga- rettes. M’booley advanced ten feet to meet them, and brought them up to introduce them one by one in the most formal fashion. ‘These were of course his 258 IN THE JUNGLE ” family, and we had to confess that they “saw N’Zahgi’s outfit of ornaments and ‘“‘raised” him beyond the ceiling. We gave them each in turn the handshake of ceremony, first with the palms as we do it, and then each grasping the other’s upright thumb. The “little chiefs’ were proud, aristocratic little fellows, holding themselves very straight and solemn. I think one would have known them for royalty anywhere. It was quite a social occasion. None of our guests was in the least ill. at ease; in fact, the young ladies were quite coy and flirtatious. We had a great many jokes. Each of the little ladies received a handful of prevailing beads. M’booley smiled benignly at these delightful femininities. After a time he led us to the edge of the hill and showed us his houses across the cafion, perched on a flat about halfway up the wall. They were of the usual grass- thatched construction, but rather larger and neater than most. Examining them through the glasses we saw that a little stream had been diverted to flow through the front yard. M’booley waved his hand abroad and gave us to understand that he considered the outlook worth looking at. It was; but an appre- ciation of that fact is foreign to the average native. Next morning, when we rode by very early, we found, the little flat most attractively cleared and arranged, 259 THE LAST FRONTIER M’booley was out to shake us by the hand in fare- well, shivering in the cold of dawn. The flirtatious and spoiled little beauties were not in evidence. One day after two very deep canons we emerged from the forest jungle into an up and down country of high jungle bush-brush. From the top of a ridge it looked a good deal like a northern cut-over pine country grown up very heavily to blackberry vines; although, of course, when we came nearer, the “‘black- berry vines”? proved to be ten or twenty feet high. This was a district of which Horne had warned us. The natives herein were reported restless and semi- hostile; and in fact had never been friendly. ‘They probably needed the demonstration most native tribes seem to require before they are content to settle down and be happy. At any rate safaris were not permitted in their district; and we ourselves were allowed to go through merely because we were a large party, did not intend to linger, and had a good reputation with natives. It is very curious how abruptly, in Central Africa, one passes from one condition to an- other, from one tribe or race to the next. Some- times, as in the present case, it is the traver- sing of a deep canon; at others the simple cross- ing of a tiny brook is enough. Moreover the line of demarcation is clearly defined, as boun- 260 “In fact, the young ladies were quite coy and flirtatious.” “The savages commenced to drift in, very haughty and arrogant. They were fully armed.” IN THE JUNGLE daries elsewhere are never defined save in war- time. Thus we smiled our good-bye to a friendly numer- ous people, descended a hill, and ascended another into a deserted track. After a half mile we came unexpectedly on to two men carrying each a load of reeds. ‘These they abandoned and fled up the hill- side through the jungle, in spite of our shouted as- surances. A moment later they reappeared at some distance above us, each with a spear he had snatched from somewhere; they were unarmed when we first caught sight of them. Examined through the glasses they proved to be sullen looking men, copper coloured, but broad across the cheekbones, broad in the forehead, more decidedly of the negro type than our late hosts. Aside from these two men we travelled through an apparently deserted jungle. I suspect, however, that we were probably well watched; for when we stopped for noon we heard the gunbearers beyond the screen of leaves talking to some one. On learning from our boys that these were some of the shenzis, we told them to bring the savages ir for a shauri; but in this our men failed, nor could they themselves get nearer than fifty yards or so to the wild people. So until even- ing our impression remained that of two distant 261 THE LAST FRONTIER men, and the indistinct sound of voices behind a leafy screen. We made camp comparatively early in a wide open space surrounded by low forest. Almost im- mediately then the savages commenced to drift in, very haughty and arrogant. ‘They were fully armed. Besides the spear and decorated shield, some of- them carried the curious small grass spears. These are used to stab upward from below, the wielder lying flat in the grass. Some of these men were fantastically painted with a groundwork of ochre, on which had been drawn intricate wavy de- signs on the legs, like stockings, and varied stripes across the face. One particularly ingenious in- dividual, stark naked, had outlined roughly his entire skeleton! He was a gruesome object! They stalked here and there through the camp, looking on our men and their activities with a lofty and silent contempt. You may be sure we had our arrangements, though they did not appear on the surface. The askaris, or native soldiers, were posted here and there with their muskets; the gunbearers also kept our spare weapons by them. The askaris could not hit a barn, but they could make a noise. The gun- bearers were fair shots. Of course the chief and his prime minister came 262 IN THE JUNGLE in. ‘They were evil-looking savages. To them we paid not the slightest attention, but went about our usual business as though they did not exist. At the end of an hour they of their own initiative greeted us. Wedidnothearthem. Half an hour later they disappeared, to return after an interval, followed by a string of young men bearing firewood. Evidently our bearing had impressed them, as we had intended. We then unbent far enough to recognize them, car- ried on a formal conversation for a few moments, gave them adequate presents and dismissed them. Then we ordered the askaris to clear camp and to keep it clear. No women had appeared. Even the gifts of firewood had been carried by men, a most unusual proceeding. As soon as dark fell the drums began roaring in the forest all about our clearing, and the chanting to rise. We instructed our men to shoot first and in- quire afterward, if a shenzi so much as showed him- self in the clearing. This was not as bad as it sounded; the shenzi stood in no immediate danger. Then we turned in to a sleep rather light and broken by uncertainty. I do not think we were in any im- mediate danger of a considered attack, for these people were not openly hostile; but there was al- ways a chance that the savages might by their drum pounding and dancing work themselves into a 263 THE LAST FRONTIER frenzy. Then we might have to do a little rapid shooting. Not for one instant the whole night long did those misguided savages cease their howling and dancing. At any rate we cost them a night’s sleep. Next morning we took up our march through the deserted tracks once more. Not a sign of human life did we encounter. About ten o’clock we climbed down a tremendous gash of a box canon with pre- cipitous cliffs. From below we looked back to see, perched high against the skyline, the motionless figures of many savages watching us from the crags. So we had had company after all, and we had not known it. This canon proved to be the boundary line. With the same abruptness we passed again into friendly country. (d) OUT THE OTHER SIDE We left the jungle finally when we turned on a long angle away from Kenia. At first the open country of the foothills was closely cultivated with fields of rape and maize. We saw some of the people break- ing new soil by means of long pointed sticks. The plowmen quite simply inserted the pointed end in the ground and pried. It was very slow hard work. In other fields the grain stood high and good. From among the stalks, as from a miniature jungle, the 264 IN THE JUNGLE little naked totos stared out, and the good-natured women smiled at us. The magnificent peak of Kenia had now shaken itself free of the forests. On its snow the sunrises and sunsets kindled their fires. The flames of grass fires, too, could plainly be made out, incredible distances away, and at daytime, through the reek, were fascinating sug- gestions of distant rivers, plains, jungles, and hills. You see, we were still practically on the wide slope of Kenia’s base, though the peak was many days away, and so could look out over wide country. The last half day of this we wandered literally in arape field. The stalks were quite above our heads, and we could see but a few yards in any direction. In addition the track had become a footpath not over two feet wide. We could occasionally look back to catch glimpses of a pack or so bobbing along on a porter’s head. From our own path hundreds of other paths branched; we were continually taking the wrong fork and moving back to set the safari right before it could do likewise. This we did by drawing a deep double line in the earth across the wrong trail. Then we hustled on ahead to pioneer the way a little farther; our difficulties were further complicated by the fact that we had sent our horses back to Nairobi for fear of the tsetse fly, so we could 265 THE LAST FRONTIER not see out above the corn. All we knew was that we ought to go down hill. At the ends of some of our false trails we came upon fascinating little settlements: groups of houses inside brush enclosures, with low wooden gateways beneath which we had to stoop to enter. Within were groups of beehive houses with small naked children and perhaps an old woman or old man seated cross-legged under a sort of veranda. From them we obtained new — and confusing directions. After three o’clock we came finally out on the edge of a cliff fifty or sixty feet high, below which lay uncultivated bottom lands like a great meadow and a little meandering stream. We descended the cliff, and camped by the meandering stream. By this time we were fairly tired from long walk- ing in the heat, and so were content to sit down under our tent-fly before our little table, and let Mahomet bring us sparklets and lime juice. Be- fore us was the flat of a meadow below the cliffs, and the cliffs themselves. Just below the rise lay a single patch of standing rape not over two acres in extent, the only sign of human life. It was as though this little bit had overflowed from the count- less millions on the plateau above. Beyond it arose a thin signal of smoke. We sipped our lime juice and rested. Soon our 266 IN THE JUNGLE attention was attracted by the peculiar actions of a big flock of very white birds. They rose suddenly from one side of the tiny rape field, wheeled and swirled like leaves in the wind, and dropped down suddenly on the other side the patch. After a few moments they repeated the performance. The sun caught the dazzling white of their plumage. At first we speculated on what they might be, then on what they were doing, to behave in so peculiar a manner. The lime juice and the armchair began to get in their recuperative work. Somehow the distance across that flat did not seem quite as tremendous as at first. Finally I picked up the shotgun and saun- tered across to investigate. The cause of action I soon determined. The owner of that rape field turned out to be an emaciated, gray-haired but spry old savage. He was armed with a spear; and at the moment his chief business in life seemed to be chasing a large flock of white birds off his grain. Since he had no assistance, and since the birds held his spear in justifiable contempt as a fowling piece, he was getting much exercise and few results. The birds gave way before his direct charge, flopped over to the other side, and continued their meal. They had already occasioned considerable damage; the rape heads were bent and destroyed for a space of perhaps ten feet from the outer edge of the field. As this 267 THE LAST FRONTIER grain probably constituted the old man’s food supply for a season, I did not wonder at the vehemence with which he shook his spear at his enemies, nor the ap- parent flavour of his language, though I did marvel at his physical endurance. As for the birds, they had become cynical and impudent; they barely flut- tered out of the way. I halted the old gentleman and hastened to ex- plain that I was neither a pirate, a robber, nor an oppressor of the poor. This as counter-check to his tendency to flee, leaving me in sole charge. He un- derstood a little Swahili, and talked a few words of something he intended for that language. By means of our mutual accomplishment in that tongue, and through a more efficient sign language, I got him to understand the plan of campaign. It was very simple. I squatted down inside the rape, while he went around the other side to scare them up. The white birds uttered their peculiarly derisive cackle at the old man and flapped over to my side. Then they were certainly an astonished lot of birds. I gave them both barrels and dropped a pair; got two more shots as they swung over me and dropped another pair, and brought down a straggling single as a grand finale. The flock, with shrill, derogatory remarks, flew in an airline straight away. They never deviated, as far as I could follow them with 268 “These chickens rode atop the loads.” The Tana River. IN THE JUNGLE the eye. Even after they had apparently disap- peared, I could catch an occasional flash of white in the sun. | Now the old gentleman came whooping around with long, undignified bounds to fall on his face and seize my foot in an excess of gratitude. He rose and capered about, he rushed out and gathered in the slain one by one and laid them in a pile at my feet. Then he danced a jig-step around them and reviled them, and fell on his face once more, repeating the word “Bwana! bwana! bwana!” over and over — “Master! master! master!” We returned to camp together, the old gentleman carrying the birds, and capering about like a small boy, pouring forth a flood of his sort of Swahili, of which I could understand only a word here and there. Memba Sasa, very dignified and scornful of such performances, met us halfway and took my gun. He seemed to be able to understand the old fellow’s brand of Swahili, and said it over again in a brand I could understand. From it I gathered that I was called a marvellously great sultan, a protector of the poor, and other Arabian Nights titles. The birds proved to be white egrets. Now at home I am strongly against the killing of these creatures, and have so expressed myself on many oc- casions. But, looking from the beautiful white plu- 269 THE LAST FRONTIER mage of these villanous mauraders, to the wrinkled countenance of the grateful weary old savage, I could not fana spark of regret. And from the straight line of their retreating flight I like to think that the rest of the flock never came back, but took their toll from the wider fields of the plateau above. Next day we reéntered the game-haunted wilder- ness, nor did we see any more native villages until many weeks later we came into the country of the Wakamba. 270 XIX THE TANA RIVER UR first sight of the Tana River was from the top of a bluff. It flowed below us a hundred feet, bending at a sharp elbow against the cliff on which we stood. Out of the jungle it crept sluggishly and into the jungle it crept again, brown, slow, viscid, suggestive of the fevers and the lurking beasts by which, indeed, it was haunted. From our elevation we could follow its course by the jungle that grew along its banks. At first this was intermittent, leav- ing thin or even open spaces at intervals, but lower down it extended away unbroken and very tall. The trees were many of them beginning to come into flower. Either side the jungle were rolling hills. Those to the left made up to the tremendous slopes of Kenia. Those to the right ended finally in a low broken range many miles away called the Ithanga Hills. The country gave one the impression of being clothed with small trees; although here and there this growth gave space to wide grassy plains. Later we 271 THE LAST FRONTIER discovered that the forest was more apparent than real. The small trees, even where continuous, were sparse enough to permit free walking in all directions, and open enough to allow clear sight for a hundred yards orso. Furthermore, the shallow wide valleys between the hills were almost invariably treeless and grown to very high thick grass. Thus the course of the Tana possessed advan- tages to such as we. By following in general the course of the stream we were always certain of wood and water. ‘The river itself was full of fish — not to speak of hundreds of crocodiles and hippopotamuses. The thick river jungle gave cover to such animals as the bushbuck, leopard, the beautiful colobus, some of the tiny antelope, waterbuck, buffalo and rhinoc- eros. Among the thorn and acacia trees of the hillsides one was certain of impalla, eland, diks-diks, and giraffes. In the grass bottoms were lions, rhinoc- eroses, a half dozen varieties of buck, and thousands and thousands of game birds such as guinea fowl and grouse. On the plains fed zebra, hartebeeste, wart-hog, ostriches, and several species of the smaller antelope. As a sportsman’s paradise this region would be hard to beat. We were now afoot. The dreaded tsetse fly abounded here, and we had sent our horses in via Fort Hall. F. had accompanied them, and hoped to 272 sonqysng A crocodile. THE TANA RIVER yvejoin us in a few days or weeks with tougher and less valuable mules. Pending his return we moved on leisurely, camping long at one spot, marching short days, searching the country far and near for the special trophies of which we stood in need. It was greatfun. Generally we hunted each in his own direction and according to his own ideas. ‘The jungle along the river, while not the most prolific in trophies, was by all odds the most interesting. It was very dense, very hot, and very shady. Often a thorn thicket would fling itself from the hills right across to the water’s edge, absolutely and hopelessly impenetrable save by way of the rhinoceros tracks. Along these then we would slip, bent double, very quietly and gingerly, keeping a sharp lookout for the rightful owners of the trail. Again we would wander among lofty trees through the tops of which the sun flickered on festooned serpentlike vines. Every once in a while we managed a glimpse of the sullen oily river through the dense leaf screen on its banks. ‘The water looked thick as syrup, of a deadly menacing green. Sometimes we saw a loathsome croc- odile lying with his nose just out of water, or heard the snorting blow of a hippopotamus coming up for air. Then the thicket forced us inland again. We stepped very slowly, very alertly, our ears cocked for the faintest sound, our eyes roving. 273 THE LAST FRONTIER Generally, of course, the creatures of the jungle saw us first. We became aware of them by a crash or a rustling or a scamper. Then we stood stock still, listening with all our ears for some sound distin- guishing to the species. Thus I came to recognize the queer barking note of the bushbuck, for example; and to realize how profane and vulgar that graceful and beautiful creature, the impalla, can be when he forgets himself. As for the rhinoceros, he does not care how much noise he makes, nor how badly he scares you. Personally, I liked very well to circle out in the more open country until about three o’clock, then to enter the river jungle and work my way slowly back toward camp. At that time of day the shadows were lengthening, the birds and animals were beginning to stirabout. In the cooling nether world of shadow we slipped silently from thicket to thicket, from tree to tree; and the jungle people fled from us, or with- drew, or gazed curiously, or cursed us as their dis- positions varied. While thus returning one evening I saw my first colobus. He was swinging rapidly from one tree to another, his long black and white fur shining against the sun. I wanted him very much, and promptly let drive at him with the 405 Winchester. I always carried this heavier weapon in the dense jun- 274 THE TANA RIVER gle. Ofcourse I missed him, but the roar of the shot so surprised him that he came to a stand. Memba Sasa passed me the Springfield, and I managed to get him in the head. At the shot another flashed into view, high up in the top of a tree. Again I aimed and fired. ‘The beast let go and fell like a plummet. “Good shot,” said I to myself. Fifty feet down the colobus seized a limb and went skipping away through the branches as lively asever. In amoment he stopped to look back, and by good luck I landed him through the body. When we retrieved him we found that the first shot had not hit him at all! At the time I thought he must have been fright- ened into falling; but many subsequent experiences showed me that this sheer let-go-all-holds drop is characteristic of the colobus and his mode of pro- gression. He rarely, as far as my observation goes, leaps out and across as do the ordinary monkeys, but prefers to progress by a series of slanting ascents followed by breath-taking straight drops to lower levels. When closely pressed from beneath, he will go as high as he can, and will then conceal himself in the thick leaves. B. and I procured our desired number of colobus by taking advantage of this habit — as soon as we had learned it. Shooting the beasts with our rifles we soon found to be not only very difficult, but also 275 THE LAST FRONTIER destructive of the skins. On the other hand, a man could not, save by sheer good fortune, rely on stalk- ing near enough to use a shotgun. Therefore we evolved a method productive of the maximum noise, row, barked shins, thorn wounds, tumbles, bruises —and colobus! It was very simple. We took about twenty boys into the jungle with us, and as soon as we caught sight of a colobus we chased him madly. ‘That was all there was to it. And yet this method, simple apparently to the point of imbecility, had considerable logic back of it after all; for after a time somebody managed to get underneath that colobus when he was at the top of a tree. Then the beast would hide. Consider then a tumbling riotous mob careering through the jungle as fast as the jungle would let it, slipping, stumbling, falling flat, getting tangled hopelessly, disentangling with profane remarks, falling behind and catching up again, everybody yelling and shrieking. Ahead of us we caught glimpses of the sleek bounding black and white creature, running up the long slanting limbs, and dropping like a plummet into the lower branches of the next tree. We white men never could keep up with the best of our men at this sort of work, although in the open country I could hold them well enough. We could see them dashing through the thick cover 276 THE TANA RIVER at a great rate of speed far ahead of us. After an interval came a great shout in chorus. By this we knew that the quarry had been definitely brought toastand. Arriving at the spot we craned our heads backward, and proceeded to get a crick in the neck trying to make out invisible colobus in the very tops of the trees above us. For gaudily marked beasts the colobus were extraordinarily difficult to see. This was in no sense owing to any far-fetched appli- cation of protective colouration; but to the remark- able skill the animals possessed in concealing them- selves behind apparently the scantiest and most inadequate cover. Fortunately for us our boys’ ability to see them was equally remarkable. Indeed, the most difficult part of their task was to point the game out to us. We squinted, and changed posi- tion, and tried hard to follow directions eagerly proffered by a dozen of the men. Finally one of us would, by the aid of six power-glasses, make out, or guess at a small tuft of white or black hair showing beyond the concealment of a bunch of leaves. We would unlimber the shotgun and send a charge of BB into that bunch. Then down would plump the game, to the huge and vociferous delight of all the boys. Or, as occasionally happened, the shot was followed merely by a shower of leaves and a chorus of expostulations indicating 277 THE LAST FRONTIER that we had mistaken the place, and had fired into empty air. In this manner we gathered the twelve we required between us. At noon we sat under the bank, with the tangled roots of trees above us, and the smooth oily river slipping by. You may be sure we always selected a spot protected by very shoal water, for the crocodiles were numerous. I always shot these loathsome creatures whenever I got a chance, and whenever the sound of a shot would not alarm more valuable game. Generally they were to be seen in midstream, just the tip of their snouts above water, and extraordinarily like anything but crocodiles. Often it took several close scrutinies through the glass to determine the brutes. This required rather nice shooting. More rarely we managed to see them on the banks, or only half submerged. In this posi- tion, too, they were all but undistinguishable as living creatures. I think this is perhaps because of their complete immobility. The creatures of the woods, standing quite still, are difficult enough to see; but I have a notion that the eye, unknown to itself, catches the sum total of little flexings of the muscles, movements of the skin, winkings, even the play of wind and light in the hair of the coat, all of which, while impossible of analysis, together relieve the appearance of dead inertia. The vitality of a 278 THE TANA RIVER creature like the crocodile, however, seems to have withdrawn into the inner recesses of its being. It lies like a log of wood, and for a log of wood it is mistaken. Nevertheless the crocodile has stored in it some- where a fearful vitality. The swiftness of its move- ments when seizing prey is most astonishing; a swirl of water, the sweep of a powerful tail, and the unfor- tunate victim has disappeared. For this reason it is especially dangerous to approach the actual edge of any of the great rivers, unless the water is so shallow that the crocodile could not possibly approach under cover; as is its cheerful habit. We had considerable difficulty in impressing this elementary truth on our hill-bred totos until one day, hearing wild shrieks from the direction of the river, I rushed down to find the lot huddled together in the very middle of a sand spit that reached well out into the stream. Inquiry developed that while paddling in the shal- lows they had been surprised by the sudden appear- ance of an ugly snout and well drenched by the sweep of an eager tail. The stroke fortunately missed. We stilled the tumult, sat down quietly to wait, and at the end of ten minutes had the satisfaction of abating that croc. Generally we killed the brutes where we found them and allowed them to drift away with the cur- 279 THE LAST FRONTIER rent. Occasionally however we wanted a piece of hide, and then tried to retrieve them. One such occasion showed very vividly the tenacity of life and the primitive nervous systems of these great saurians. I discovered the beast, head out of water, in a reasonable sized pool below which were shallow rapids. My Springfield bullet hit him fair, where- upon he stood square on his head and waved his tail in the air, rolled over three or four times, thrashed the water, and disappeared. After waiting a while we moved on downstream. Returning four hours later I sneaked up quietly. There the crocodile lay, sunning himself on the sand bank. I supposed he must be dead; but when I accidentally broke a twig, heimmediately commenced to slide off into the water. Thereupon I stopped him with a bullet in the spine. The first shot had smashed a hole in his head, just behind the eye, about the size of an ordinary coffee cup. In spite of this wound, which would have been instantly fatal to any warm-blooded animal, the creature was so little affected that it actually re- acted to a slight noise made at some distance from where it lay. Of course the wound would probably have been fatal in the long run. The best spot to shoot at, indeed, is not the head, but the spine immediately back of the head. 280 THE TANA RIVER These brutes are exceedingly powerful. They are capable of taking down horses and cattle, with no particular effort. This I know from my own observation. Mr. Fleischman, however, was privi- leged to see the wonderful sight of the capture and destruction of a full-grown rhinoceros by a crocodile. The photographs he took of this most extraordinary affair leave no room for doubt. Crossing a stream was always a matter of concern to us. The boys beat the surface of the water vigorously with their safari sticks. On occasion we have even let loose a few heavy bullets to stir up the pool before ventur- ing in. A steep climb through thorn and brush would always extricate us from the river jungle when we became tired of it. Then we found ourselves in a continuous but scattered growth of small trees. Between the trunks of these we could see for a hundred yards or so before their numbers closed in the view. Here was the favourite haunt of numerous beautiful impalla. We caught glimpses of them, flashing through the trees; or occasionally standing gazing in our direction, their slender necks stretched high, their ears pointed for us. ‘These curious ones were generally the does. The bucks were either more cautious or less inquisitive. A herd or so of eland also liked this covered country; and there 281 THE LAST FRONTIER were always a few waterbuck and _ rhinoceroses about. Often too we here encountered stragglers from the open plains — zebra or hartebeeste, very alert and suspicious in unaccustomed surroundings. A great deal of the plains country had been burned over; and a considerable area was still afire. The low bright flames licked their way slowly through the grass in a narrow irregular band extending sometimes for miles. Behind it was blackened soil, and above it rolled dense clouds of smoke. Always accompanied it thousands of birds wheeling and dashing frantically in and out of the murk, often fairly at the flames themselves. The published writings of a certain worthy and sentimental person waste much sym- pathy over these poor birds dashing frenziedly about above their destroyed nests. As a matter of fact they are taking greedy advantage of a most excellent opportunity to get insects cheap. ‘Thousands of the common red-billed European storks patrolled the grass just in front of the advancing flames, or wheeled barely above the fire. Grasshoppers were their main object, although apparently they never objected to any small mammals or reptiles that came their way. Far overhead wheeled a few thousand more assorted soarers who either had no appetite or had satisfied it. The utter indifference of the animals to the ad- 282 THE TANA RIVER vance of a big conflagration always impressed me. One naturally pictures the beasts as fleeing wildly, nostrils distended, before the devouring element. On the contrary I have seen kongoni grazing quite peacefully with flames on three sides of them. The fire seems to travel rather slowly in the tough grass; although at times and for a short distance it will leap to a wild and roaring life. Beasts will then lope rapidly away to right or left, but without excitement. On these open plains we were more or less pestered with ticks of various sizes. ‘These clung to the grass blades; but with no invincible preference for that habitat: trousers did them just as well. Then they ascended looking for openings. They ranged in size from little red ones as small as the period of a printed page to big patterned fellows the size of a pea. The little ones were much the most abundant. At times I have had the front of my breeches so covered with them that their numbers actually imparted a reddish tinge to the surface of the cloth. This sounds like exaggeration; but it is a measured statement. The process of de-ticking (new and valuable word) can then be done only by scraping with the back of a hunting knife. Some people, of tender skin, are driven nearly frantic by these pests. Others, of whom I am thank- ful to say I am one, get off comparatively easy. In 283 THE LAST FRONTIER a particularly bad tick country, one generally ap- points one of the youngsters as “‘tick toto.” It is then his job in life to de-tick any person or domestic animal requiring his services. His is a busy existence. But though at first the nuisance is excessive, one becomes accustomed to it in a remarkably short space of time. The adaptability of the human being is nowhere better exemplified. After a time one gets so that at night he can remove a marauding tick and cast it forth into the darkness without even waking up. Fortunately ticks are local in distribution. Often one may travel weeks or months without this infliction. I was always interested and impressed to observe how indifferent the wild animals seem to be to these insects. Zebra, rhinoceros and giraffe seem to be especially good hosts. The loathsome creatures fasten themselves in clusters wherever they can grip their fangs. Thus in a tick country a zebra’s ears, the lids and corners of his eyes, his nostrils and lips, the soft skin between his legs and body, and between his hind legs, and under his tail are always crusted with ticks as thick as they can cling. One would think the drain on vitality would be enormous, but the animals are always plump and in condition. The same state of affairs obtains with the other two beasts named. ‘The hartebeeste also carries ticks, 284 THE TANA RIVER but not nearly in the same abundance; while such creatures as the waterbuck, impalla, gazelles and the smaller bucks seem either to be absolutely free from the pests, or to have a very few. Whether this is because such animals take the trouble to rid them- selves, or because they are more immune from attack it would be difficult to say. I have found ticks cling- ing to the hair of lions, but never fastened to the flesh. It is probable that they had been brushed off from the grass in passing. Perhaps ticks do not like lions, waterbuck, Tommies, et al., or perhaps only big coarse-grained common brutes like zebra and rhinos will stand them at all. 285 XX DIVERS ADVENTURES ALONG THE TANA ATE one afternoon I shot a wart-hog in the tall grass. The beast was an unusually fine speci- men, so I instructed Fundi and the porters to take the head, and myself started for camp with Memba Sasa. I had gone not over a hundred yards when I was recalled by wild and agonized appeals of: “Bwana! bwana!” The long-legged Fundi was repeatedly leaping straight up in the air to an astonishing height above the long grass, curling his legs up under him at each jump, and yelling like a steam-engine. Returning promptly, I found that the wart-hog had come to life at the first prick of the knife. He was engaged in charging back and forth in an earnest effort to tusk Fundi, and the latter was jumping high in an equally earnest effort to keep out of the way. Fortunately he proved agile enough to do so until I planted another bullet in the aggressor. These wart-hogs are most comical brutes from whatever angle one views them. They have a patriarchal, self-satisfied, suburban manner of com- 286 ADVENTURES ALONG THE TANA plete importance. The old gentleman bosses his harem outrageously, and each and every member of the tribe walks about with short steps and a stuffy parvenu small-town self-sufficiency. One is quite certain that it is only by accident that they have long tusks and live in Africa, instead of rubber-plants and self-made business and a pug-dog within com- muters’ distance of New York. But at the slightest alarm this swollen and puffy importance breaks down completely. Away they scurry, their tails held stiffly and straightly perpendicular, their short legs scrabbling the small stones in a frantic effort to go faster than nature had intended them te go. Nor do they cease their flight at a reasonable distance, but keep on going over hill and dale, until they fairly vanish in the blue. I used to like starting them off this way, just for the sake of contrast, and also for the sake of the delicious but impossible vision of seeing their human prototypes do likewise. When a wart-hog is at home, he lives down a hole. Of course it has to be a particularly large hole. He turns around and backs down it. No more peculiar sight can be imagined than the sardonically tooth- some countenance of a wart-hog fading slowly in the dimness of a deep burrow, a good deal like Alice’s Cheshire Cat. Firing a revolver, preferably with smoky black powder, just in front of the hole annoys 287 THE LAST FRONTIER the wart-hog exceedingly. Out he comes full tilt, bent on damaging some one, and it takes quick shooting to prevent his doing so. Once, many hundreds of miles south of the Tana, and many months later, we were riding quite peace- ably through the country, when we were startled by the sound of a deep and continuous roaring in a small brush patch to our left. We advanced cau- tiously to a prospective lion, only to discover that the roaring proceeded from the depths of a wart-hog burrow. The reverberation of our footsteps on the hollow ground had alarmed him. He was a very nervous wart-hog. On another occasion, when returning to camp from a solitary walk, I saw two wart-hogs before they saw me. I made no attempt to conceal myself, but stood absolutely motionless. They fed slowly nearer and nearer until at last they were not over twenty yards away. When finally they made me out, their in- dignation and amazement and utter incredulity were very funny. In fact, they did not believe in me at all for some few snorty moments. Finally they departed, their absurd tails stiff upright. One afternoon F. and I, hunting along one of the wide grass bottom lands, caught sight of a herd of an especially fine impalla. The animals were feed- 288 ADVENTURES ALONG THE TANA ing about fifty yards the other side of a small solit- ary bush, and the bush grew on the sloping bank of the slight depression that represented the dry stream bottom. We could duck down into the depression, sneak along it, come up back of the little bush, and shoot from very close range. Leaving the gunbearers, we proceeded to do this. So quietly did we move that when we rose up back of the little bush a lioness lying under it with her cub was as surprised as we were! Indeed, I do not think she knew what we were, for instead of attacking, she leaped out the other side the bush, uttering a startled snarl. At once she whirled to come at us, but the brief respite had allowed us to recover our own scattered wits. As she turned I caught her broadside through the heart. Although this shot knocked her down, F. immedi- ately followed it with another for safety’s sake. We found that actually we had just missed stepping on her tail! The cub we caught a glimpse of. He was about the size of a setter dog. We tried hard to find him, but failed. The lioness was an unusually large one, probably about as big as the female ever grows, measuring nine feet six inches in length, and three feet eight inches tall at the shoulder. 289 THE LAST FRONTIER Billy had her funny times housekeeping. The kitchen department never quite ceased marvelling at her. Whenever she went to the cook-camp to deliver her orders she was surrounded by an atten- tive and respectful audience. One day, after hold- ing forth for some time in Swahili, she found that she had been standing hobnailed on one of the boy’s feet. “Why, Mahomet!” she cried. ‘That must have hurt you! Why didn’t you tell me?” “Memsahib,” he smiled politely, ‘‘I think perhaps you move some time!”’ On another occasion she was trying to tell the cook, through Mahomet as interpreter, that she wanted a tough old buffalo steak pounded, boarding- house style. This evidently puzzled all hands. They turned to in an earnest discussion of what it was all about, anyway. Billy understood Swahili well enough at that time to gather that they could not understand the Memsahib’s wanting the meat “‘kibokoed”” — flogged. Was it areligious rite, or a piece of revenge? They gave it up. “All right,” said Mahomet patiently atlast. “He say he doit. Which one is it?” Part of our supplies comprised tins of dehydrated fruit. One evening Billy decided to have a grand celebration, so she passed out a tin marked “rhu- 290 "BIQ9Z S,PIBA\ « YOUS JO SPNO] aSUep Pal]Or HW 9Aoqe pure “los pauayor|q sea 3 puryaq —ozy sureyd ayy, x ADVENTURES ALONG THE TANA barb” and some cornstarch, together with suitable instructions for a fruit pudding. In a little while the cook returned. “‘Nataka m’tunde — I want fruit,” said he. Billy pointed out, severely, that he already had fruit. He went away shaking his head. Evening and the pudding came. Itlooked good, and we con- gratulated Billy on her culinary enterprise. Being hungry, we took big mouthfuls. There followed splutterings and investigations. The rhubarb can proved to be an old one containing heavy gun grease! ; When finally we parted with our faithful cook we bought him a really wonderful many bladed knife asapresent. On seeing it he slumped to the ground —six feet of lofty dignity — and began to weep violently, rocking back and forth in an excess of grief. “Why, what is it?” we inquired, alarmed. “Oh, Memsahib!” he wailed, the tears coursing down his cheeks, “I wanted a watch!” One morning about nine o’clock we were riding along at the edge of a grass-grown savannah, with a low hill to our right and another about four hundred yards ahead. Suddenly two rhinoceroses came to their feet some fifty yards to our left, out in the 291 THE LAST FRONTIER high grass, and stood looking uncertainly in our direction. “Look out! Rhinos!’ I warned instantly. “Why — why!” gasped Billy in an astonished tone of voice, ‘“‘they have manes!”’ In some concern for her sanity I glanced in her direction. She was staring, not to her left, but straight ahead. I followed the direction of her gaze, to see three lions moving across the face of the hill. Instantly we dropped off our horses. We wanted a shot at those lions very much indeed, but were hampered in our efforts by the two rhinoceroses, now stamping, snorting, and moving slowly in our direc- tion. The language we muttered was racy, but we dropped to a kneeling position and opened fire on the disappearing lions. It was most distinctly a case of divided attention, one eye on those menacing rhinos, and one trying to attend to the always deli- cate operation of aligning sights and signalling from a rather distracted brain just when to pull the trigger. Our faithful gunbearers crouched by us, the heavy guns ready. One rhino seemed either peaceable or stupid. He showed no inclination either to attack or to depart, but was willing to back whatever play his friend might decide on. The friend charged toward us until we began to think he meant battle, stopped, 292 PLY: “These wart-hogs are most comical brutes.” ‘euey oy} jo Areynquy e—JoAry eyIY 9y} uo dus y , 9u0 ase] ATTensnun ue seM ssauory ay], “At twelve feet from the wounded beast we stopped.”’ ADVENTURES ALONG THE TANA thought a moment, and then, followed by his com- panion, trotted slowly across our bows about eighty yards away, while we continued our long range prac- tice at the lions over their backs. In this we were not winning many cigars. F. had a 280-calibre rifle shooting the Ross cartridge through the much advertised grooveless oval bore. It was little accurate beyond a hundred yards. Memba Sasa had thrust the 405 into my hand, knowing it for the “‘lion gun,”’ and kept just out of reach with the long-range Springfield. I had no time to argue the matter with him. The 405 has a trajectory like a rainbow at that distance, and I was guessing at it, and not making very good guesses either. B. had his Springfield and made closer practice, finally hitting a leg of one of the beasts. We saw him lift his paw and shake it, but he did not move lamely afterward, so the damage was probably confined to a simple scrape. It was a good shot anyway. Then they disappeared over the top of the hill. We walked forward, regretting rhinos. Thirty yards ahead of me came a thunderous and roaring growl, and a magnificent old lion reared his head from a low bush. He evidently intended mischief, for I could see his tail switching. However, B. had killed only one lion and I wanted very much to give him the shot. Therefore, I held the front sight 293 THE LAST FRONTIER on the middle of his chest, and uttered a fervent wish to myself that B. would hurry up. In about ten seconds the muzzle of his rifle poked over my shoulder, so I resigned the job. At B.’s shot the lion fell over, but was immediately up and trying to get at us. Then we saw that his hind quarters were paralyzed. He was a most mag- nificent sight as he reared his fine old head, roaring at us full mouthed so that the very air trembled. Billy had a good look at a lion in action. B. took up a commanding position on an ant hill to one side with his rifle levelled. F. and I advanced slowly side by side. At twelve feet from the wounded beast we stopped, F. unlimbered the kodak, while I held the bead of the 405 between the lion’s eyes, ready to press trigger at the first forward movement, however slight. ‘Thus we took several exposures in the two cameras. Unfortunately one of the cameras fell in the river the next day. The other contained but one exposure. While not so spectacular as some of those spoiled, it shows very well the erect mane, the wicked narrowing of the eyes, the flattening of the ears of an angry lion. You must imagine, further- more, the deep rumbling diapason of his growling. We backed away, and B. put in the finishing shot. The first bullet, we then found, had penetrated the kidneys, thus inflicting a temporary paralysis. 294 ADVENTURES ALONG THE TANA When we came to skin him we found an old- fashioned lead bullet between the bones of his right forepaw. The entrance wound had so entirely healed over that hardly the trace of a scar remained. From what I know of the character of these beasts, I have no doubt that this ancient injury furnished the reason for his staying to attack us instead of departing with the other three lions over the hill. Following the course of the river, we one afternoon came around a bend on a huge herd of mixed game that had been down to water. The river, a quite impassable barrier, lay to our right, and an equally impassable precipitous ravine barred their flight ahead. They were forced to cross our front, quite close, within the hundred yards. We stopped to watch them go, a seemingly endless file of them, some very much frightened, bounding spasmodically as though stung; others, more philosophical, loping easily and unconcernedly; still others —a few — even stopping for a moment to get a good view of us. The very young creatures, as always, bounced along absolutely stiff-legged, exactly like wooden animals suspended by an elastic, touching the ground and rebounding high, without a bend of the knee nor an apparent effort of the muscles. Young animals seem to have to learn how to bend their legs for the 295 THE LAST FRONTIER most efficient travel. The same is true of human babies as well. In this herd were, we estimated, some four or five hundred beasts. While hunting near the foothills I came across the body of a large eagle suspended by one leg from the crotch of a limb. The bird’s talon had missed its grip, probably on alighting, the tarsus had slipped through the crotch beyond the joint, the eagle had fallen forward, and had never been able to flop itself back to an upright position! 2096 XX] THE RHINOCEROS HE rhinoceros is, with the giraffe, the hippo- potamus, the gerenuk, and the camel, one of Africa’s unbelievable animals. Nobody has bet- tered Kipling’s description of him in the Just-so Stories: ‘A horn on his nose, piggy eyes, and few manners.” He lives a self-centred life, wrapped up in the porcine contentment that broods within nor looks abroad over the land. When anything external to himself and his food and drink penetrates to his intelligence he makes a flurried fool of himself, rush- ing madly and frantically here and there in a hys- terical effort either to destroy or get away from the cause of disturbance. He is the incarnation of a liv- ing and perpetual Grouch. Generally he lives by himself, sometimes with his spouse, more rarely still with a third that is prob- ably a grown-up son or daughter. I personally have never seen more than three in company. Some observers have reported larger bands, or rather col- lections, but, lacking other evidence, I should be 2907 THE LAST FRONTIER inclined to suspect that some circumstance of food or water rather than a sense of gregariousness had attracted a number of individuals to one locality. The rhinoceros has three objects in life: to fill his stomach with food and water, to stand absolutely motionless under a bush, and to imitate ant hills when he lies down in the tall grass. When dis- turbed at any of these occupations he snorts. The snort sounds exactly as though the safety valve of a locomotive had suddenly opened and as suddenly shut again after two seconds of escaping steam. Then he puts his head down and rushes madly in some direction, generally upwind. As he weighs about two tons, and can, in spite of his appearance, get over the ground nearly as fast as an ordinary horse, he is a truly imposing sight, especially since the innocent bystander generally happens to be upwind, and hence in the general path of progress. This is because the rhino’s scent is his keenest sense, and through it he becomes aware, in the majority of times, of man’s presence. His sight is very poor indeed; he cannot see clearly even a moving object much beyond fifty yards. He can, however, hear pretty well. The novice, then, is subjected to what he calls a “‘vicious charge” on the part of the rhinoceros, merely because his scent was borne to the beast 298 THE RHINOCEROS from upwind, and the rhino naturally runs away upwind. He opens fire, and has another thrilling adventure to relate. As a matter of fact, if he had approached from the other side, and then aroused the animal with a clod of earth, the beast would probably have “charged” away in identically the same direction. I am convinced from a fairly varied experience that this is the basis for most of the thrill- ing experiences with rhinoceroses. But whatever the beast’s first mental attitude, the danger is quite real. In the beginning he rushes upwind in instinctive reaction against the strange scent. Ifhecatches sight of the man at all, it must be after he has approached to pretty close range, for only at close range are the rhino’s eyes effective. Then he is quite likely to finish what was at first a blind dash by a genuine charge. Whether this is from malice or from the panicky feeling that he is now too close to attempt to get away, I never was able to determine. It is probably in the majority of cases the latter. This seems indicated by the fact that the rhino, if avoided in his first rush, will generally charge right through and keep on going. Occasion- ally, however, he will whirl and come back to the attack. ‘There can then be no doubt that he actually intends mischief. Nor must it be forgotten that with these animals, 299 THE LAST FRONTIER as with all others, not enough account is taken of individual variation. They, as well as man, and as well as other animals, have their cowards, their fighters, their slothful and their enterprising. And, too, there seem to be truculent and peaceful districts. North of Mt. Kenia, between that peak and the Northern Guaso Nyero River, we saw many rhinos, none of which showed the slightest disposition to turn ugly. In fact, they were so peaceful that they scrabbled off as fast as they could go every time they either scented, heard, or saw us; and in their flight they held their noses up, not down. In the wide angle between the Tana and Thika rivers, and comprising the Yatta Plains, and in the thickets of the Tsavo, the rhinoceroses generally ran nose down in a position of attack and were much inclined to let their angry passions master them at the sight of man. Thus we never had our safari scattered by rhinoceroses in the former district, while in the lat- ter the boys were up trees six times in the course of one morning! Carl Akeley, with a moving picture machine, could not tease a charge out of a rhino in a dozen tries, while Dugmore, in a different part of the country, was so chivied about that he finally left the district to avoid killing any more of the brutes in self-defence! The fact of the matter is that the rhinoceros is 300 THE RHINOCEROS neither animated by the implacable man-destroying passion ascribed to him by the amateur hunter, nor is he so purposeless and haphazard in his rushes as some would have us believe. On being disturbed his instinct is to get away. He generally tries to get away in the direction of the disturbance, or up- wind, as the case may be. If he catches sight of the cause of disturbance he is apt to try to trample and gore it, whatever it is. As his sight is short, he will sometimes so inflict punishment on unoffending bushes. In doing this he is probably not animated by a consuming destructive blind rage, but by a naturally pugnacious desire to eliminate sources of annoyance. Missing a definite object, he thunders right through and disappears without trying again to discover what has aroused him. This first rush is not a charge in the sense that it is an attack on a definite object. It may not, and probably will not, amount to a charge at all, for the beast will blunder through without ever defining more clearly the object of his blind dash. That dash is likely, however, at any moment, to turn into a definite charge should the rhinoceros happen to catch sight of his disturber. Whether the impelling motive would then be a mistaken notion that on the part of the beast he was so close he had to fight, or just plain malice, would not matter, At such times 301 THE LAST FRONTIER the intended victim is not interested in the rhino’s mental processes. Owing to his size, his powerful armament, and his incredible quickness the rhinoceros is a dangerous animal at all times, to be treated with respect and due caution. ‘This is proved by the number of white men, out of a sparse population, that are annually tossed and killed by the brutes, and by the prompt- ness with which the natives take to trees — thorn trees at that! — when the cry of faru/ is raised. As he comes rushing in your direction, head down and long weapon pointed, tail rigidly erect, ears up, the earth trembling with his tread and the air with his snorts, you suddenly feel very small and ineffective. If you keep cool, however, it is probable that the encounter will result only in a lot of mental perturba- tion for the rhino and a bit of excitement for your- self. If there is any cover you should duck down behind it and move rapidly but quietly to one side or another of the line of advance. If there is no cover, you should crouch low and hold still. The chances are he will pass to one side or the other of you, and go snorting away into the distance. Keep your eye on him very closely. If he swerves defi- nitely in your direction, and drops his head a little lower, it would be just as well to open fire. Provided the beast was still far enough away to give me “‘sea- 302 Rhinoceros charging. Ay 5» > Se S of LEASE, RE ‘ £ ‘‘The beast’s companion refused to leave the dead body.” (¢ S[RUNUR a(qvAdt[aquN S,eolyy Joouo. * * *~ St SOLBD0UTYI oT, THE RHINOCEROS room,” I used to put a small bullet in the flesh of the outer part of the shoulder. The wound thus in- flicted was not at all serious, but the shock of the bullet usually turned the beast. This was generally in the direction of the wounded shoulder, which would indicate that the brute turned toward the ap- parent source of the attack, probably for the purpose of getting even. At any rate, the shot turned the rush to one side, and the rhinoceros, as usual, went right on through. If, however, he seemed to mean business, or was too close for comfort, the point to aim for was the neck just above the lowered horn. In my own experience I came to establish a “dead line” about twenty yards from myself. That seemed to be as near as I cared to let the brutes come. Up to that point I let them alone on the chance that they might swerve or change their minds, as they often did. But inside of twenty yards, whether the rhinoceros meant to charge me, or was merely running blindly by, did not particularly matter. Even in the latter case he might happen to catch sight of me and change his mind. Thus, looking over my notebook records, I find that I was “charged” forty odd times—that is to say, the rhinoceros rushed in my general direction. Of this lot I can be sure of but three, and possibly four, that certainly meant mischief. Six more came so directly 393 THE LAST FRONTIER at us, and continued so to come, that in spite of our- selves we were compelled to kill them. The rest were successfully dodged. As I have heard old hunters, of many times my experience, affirm that only in a few instances have they themselves been charged indubitably and with malice aforethought, it might be well to detail my reasons for believing myself definitely and not blindly attacked. The first instance was that when B. killed his second trophy rhinoceros. The beast’s companion refused to leave the dead body for a long time, but finally withdrew. On our approaching, however, and after we had been some moments occupied with the trophy, it returned and charged viciously. It was finally killed at fifteen yards. The second instance was of a rhinoceros that got up from the grass sixty yards away, and came head- long in my direction. At the moment I was stand- ing on the edge of a narrow eroded ravine, ten feet deep, with perpendicular sides. The rhinoceros came on bravely to the edge of this ravine — and stopped. Then he gave an exhibition of unmiti- gated bad temper most amusing to contemplate — from my safe position. He snorted, and stamped, and pawed the earth, and ramped up and down at a great rate. I sat on the opposite bank and laughed 304 THE RHINOCEROS at him. This did not please him a bit, but after many short rushes to the edge of the ravine, he gave it up and departed slowly, his tail very erect and rigid. From the persistency with which he tried to get at me, I cannot but think he intended something of the sort from the first. The third instance was much more aggravating. In company with Memba Sasa and Fundi I left camp early one morning to get a waterbuck. Four or five hundred yards out, however, we came on fresh buf- falo signs, not an hour old. ‘To one who knew any- thing of buffaloes’ habits this seemed like an excellent chance, for at this time of the morning they should be feeding not far away preparatory to seeking cover for the day. ‘Therefore we immediately took up the trail. It led us over hills, through valleys, high grass, burned country, brush, thin scrub, and small wood- land alternately. Unfortunately we had happened on these buffalo just as they were about changing district, and they were therefore travelling steadily. At times the trail was easy to follow, and at other times we had to cast about very diligently to find traces of the direction even such huge animals had taken. It was interesting work, however, and we drew on steadily, keeping a sharp lookout ahead in case the buffalo had come to a halt in some shady 395 THE LAST FRONTIER thicket out of the sun. As the latter ascended the heavens and the scorching heat increased, our con- fidence in nearing our quarry ascended likewise, for we knew that buffaloes do not like great heat. Never- theless this band continued straight on its way. I think now they must have got scent of our camp, and had therefore decided to move to one of the alternate and widely separated feeding grounds every herd keeps in its habitat. Only at noon, and after six hours of steady trailing, covering perhaps a dozen miles, did we catch them up. From the start we had been bothered with rhinoc- eroses. Five times did we encounter them, standing almost squarely on the line of the spoor we were following. Then we had to make a wide quiet circle to leeward in order to avoid disturbing them, and were forced to a very minute search in order to pick up the buffalo tracks again on the other side. This was at once an anxiety and a delay, and we did not love those rhino. | Finally, at the very edge of the Yatta Plains we overtook the herd, resting for noon in a scattered thicket. Leaving Fundi, I, with Memba Sasa, stalked down to them. We crawled and crept by inches flat to the ground, which was so hot that it fairly burned the hand. The sun beat down on us fiercely, and the air was close and heavy even among 306 “At first the traveller is pleased and curious over rhinoceros.” “And departed over the hills.”’ _ stayed ynq Suryjou ut a1aM aM dures 4se] aq} HY,, THE RHINOCEROS the scanty grass tufts in which we were trying to get cover. It was very hard work indeed, but after a half hour of it we gained a thin bush not over thirty yards from a half dozen dark and indeterminate bodies dozing in the very centre of a brush patch. Cautiously I wiped the sweat from my eyes and raised my glasses. It was slow work and patient work, picking out and examining each individual beast from the mass. Finally the job was done. I let fall my glasses. ““Monumookee y’otey — all cows,” I whispered to Memba Sasa. We backed out of there inch by inch, with the intention of circling a short distance to the leeward, and then trying the herd again lower down. But some awkward slight movement, probably on my part, caught the eye of one of those blessed cows. She threw up her head; instantly the whole thicket seemed alive with beasts. We could hear them crash- ing and stamping, breaking the brush, rushing head- long and stopping again; we could even catch momentary glimpses of dark bodies. After a few minutes we saw the mass of the herd emerge from the thicket five hundred yards away and flow up over the hill. There were probably a hundred and fifty of them, and, looking through my glasses, I saw among them two fine old bulls. They were of course 3°97 THE LAST FRONTIER not much alarmed, as only the one cow knew what it was all about anyway, and I suspected they would stop at the next thicket. We had only one small canteen of water with us, but we divided that. It probably did us good, but the quantity was not sufficient to touch our thirst. For the remainder of the day we suffered rather severely, as the sun was fierce. After a short interval we followed on after the buffaloes. Within a half mile beyond the crest of the hill over which they had disappeared was another thicket. At the very edge of the thicket, asleep under an outlying bush, stood one of the big bulls! Luck seemed with us at last. The wind was right, and between us and the bull lay only four hundred yards of knee-high grass. All we had to do was to get down on our hands and knees, and, without further precautions, crawl up within range and pot him. That meant only a bit of hard, hot work. When we were about halfway a rhinoceros sud- denly arose from the grass between us and the buffalo, and about one hundred yards away. What had aroused him, at that distance and up- wind, I do not know. It hardly seemed possible that he could have heard us, for we were moving very quietly, and, as I say, we were downwind. However, there he was on his feet, sniffing now this 308 THE RHINOCEROS way, now that, in search for what had alarmed him. We sank out of sight and lay low, fully expecting that the brute would make off. For just twenty-five minutes by the watch that rhinoceros looked and looked deliberately in all directions while we lay hidden waiting for him to get over it. Sometimes he would start off quite con- fidently for fifty or sixty yards, so that we thought at last we were rid of him, but always he returned to the exact spot where we had first seen him, there to stamp, and blow. The buffalo paid no attention to these manifestations. I suppose everybody in jun- gleland is accustomed to rhinoceros bad temper over nothing. ‘Twice he came in our direction, but both times gave it up after advancing twenty- five yards or so. We lay flat on our faces, the vertical sun slowly roasting us, and cursed that rhino. Now the significance of this incident is twofold: first, the fact that, instead of rushing off at the first intimation of our presence, as would the average rhino, he went methodically to work to find us; second, that he displayed such remarkable per- severance as to keep at it nearly a half hour. This was a spirit quite at variance with that finding its expression in the blind rush or in the sudden pas- sionate attack. From that point of view it seems 399 THE LAST FRONTIER to me that the interest and significance of the in- cident can hardly be overstated. Four or five times we thought ourselves freed from the nuisance, but always, just as we were about to move on, back he came, as eager as ever to nose us out. Finally he gave it up, and, at a slow trot, started to go away from there. And out of the three hundred and sixty degrees of the circle where he might have gone he selected just our direction. Note that this was downwind for him, and that rhinoc- eroses usually escape upwind. We laid very low, hoping that, as before, he would change his mind as to direction. But now he was no longer looking, but travelling. Nearer and nearer he came. We could see plainly his little eyes, and hear the regular swish, swish, swish of his thick legs brushing through the grass. The regularity of his trot never varied, but to me lying there directly in his path, he seemed to be coming on altogether too fast for comfort. From our low level he looked as big asa barn. Memba Sasa touched me lightly on the leg. I hated to shoot, but finally when he loomed fairly over us I saw it must be now or never. If I allowed him to come closer, he must indubitably catch the first movement of my gun and so charge right on us before I would have time to deliver even an ineffective shot. Therefore, most reluctantly, I 310 THE RHINOCEROS placed the ivory bead of the great Holland gun just to the point of his shoulder and pulled the trigger. So close was he that as he toppled forward I instinc- tively, though unnecessarily of course, shrank back as though he might fall on me. Fortunately I had picked my spot properly, and no second shot was necessary. He fell just twenty-seven feet — nine yards — from where we lay! The buffalo vanished into the blue. We were left with a dead rhino, which we did not want, twelve miles from camp, and no water. It was a hard hike back, but we made it finally, though nearly perished from thirst. This beast, be it noted, did not charge us at all, but I consider him as one of the three undoubtedly animated by hostile intentions. Of the others I can, at this moment, remember five that might or might not have been actually and maliciously charging when they were killed or dodged. J am no mind reader for rhinoceros. Also I am willing to believe in their entirely altruistic intentions. Only, if they want to get the practical results of their said altruis- tic intentions they must really refrain from coming straight at me nearer than twenty yards. It has been stated that if one stands perfectly still until the rhinoceros is just six feet away, and then jumps side- ways, the beast will pass him. I never happened to 311 THE LAST FRONTIER meet anybody who had acted on this theory. I suppose that such exist: though I doubt if any per- sistent exponent of the art is likely to exist long. Personally I like my own method, and stoutly main- tain that, within twenty yards itis up to the rhinoc- eros to begin to do the dodging. 312 XXII THE RHINOCEROS — (continued) T FIRST the traveller is pleased and curious over rhinoceros. After he has seen and en- countered eight or ten, he begins to look upon them as an unmitigated nuisance. By the time he has done a week in thick rhino-infested scrub he gets fairly to hating them. They are bad enough in the open plains, where they can be seen and avoided, but in the tall grass or the scrub they are a continuous anxiety. No cover seems small enough to reveal them. Often they will stand or lie absolutely immobile until you are within a very short distance, and then will out- rageously break out. They are, in spite of their clumsy build, as quick and active as polo ponies, and are the only beasts I know of capable of leaping into full speed ahead from a recumbent position. In thorn scrub they are the worst, for there, no matter how alert the traveller may hold himself, he is likely to come around a bush smack on one. And a dozen times a day the throat-stopping, abrupt 313 THE LAST FRONTIER crash and smash to right or left brings him up all standing, his heart racing, the blood pounding through his veins. It is jumpy work, and is very hard on the temper. In the natural reaction from being startled into fits one snaps back to profanity. The cumulative effects of the epithets hurled after a departing and inconsiderately hasty rhinoceros may have done something toward ruining the temper of the species. It does not matter whether or not the individual beast proves dangerous; he is inevitably most startling. I have come in at night with my eyes fairly aching from spying for rhinos during a day’s journey through high grass. And, as a friend remarked, rhinos are such a mussy death. One poor chap, killed while we were away on our first trip, could not be moved from the spot where he had been trampled. ; hs it Ml y! A Willa 40 th, ae Ty ey a § ——— na a eed 4