Skip to main content

Full text of "In closed territory"

See other formats










A. C. McCLURG & CO. 

A. C. McCLURG & CO. 


Published February 26, 1910 
Entered at Stationers' Hall, London, England 

Some of the material in this volume has 
previously appeared in "The Century Maga- 
zine," the Associated Sunday Magazines, and 
elsewhere, and is used here by permission. 







" I also recall his saying 'The man who has not taken 
his life in his hands at some time or other has not lived. ' ' 

"Reminiscences of Robert Louis Stevenson." 


TERRITORY" is a phrase that in- 
spires longings and expresses conditions of the 
sort that, in one form or another from the days of 
Adam, have served out to mankind most of the sweetest 
pleasures and bitterest pains experienced between earliest 
sentient childhood and feeblest senile age. Never are we 
so old or so young that we are entirely safe from the allure- 
ments it suggests, the novel charms and new intoxications 
with which our imagination close hedges every sinuous 
turn of forbidden paths. The pitfalls it holds, alike for 
toddling infancy, firm-treading prime, and halting, stum- 
bling age, we never think of until into them we are deeply 
and more or less hopelessly plunged. 

Happy indeed, then, he who may be so fortunate as 
to win free franchise to " Closed Territory," to traverse 
it untainted, and to leave it unscarred. 

A personal acquaintance with the British East African 
Protectorate can scarcely fail to make any observant, 
thoughtful Briton or American proud of his Anglo- 
Saxonhood, of its boldness, its actual audacity. 

This newest of British Colonies comprises 400,000 
square miles of territory. It has a native black popula- 
tion of 4,000,000, divided among something over a dozen 
different tribes, each widely differing in language and 
tribal customs from all the others, all warrior races per- 
petually battling with each other until brought under 
measurable discipline by British authority, the most 
powerful the Kikuyu, the Masai, and the Wakamba. 



And yet this vast new apanage of the Empire is oc- 
cupied and held for the Crown by a numerically puny 
handful of about two hundred and fifty Englishmen! 

This includes the Governor and his staff, the various 
administrative departments, the military and police 
departments in fact, the entire civil list of the Pro- 
tectorate, except the Post, Telegraph, and Railway 

Troops? No troops? Oh, yes; but what? A few 
companies of East Indian Sikh infantry, doing police 
duty along the Uganda Railway, and two battalions of 
native Soudanese and Nubian Askaris! That is all! 

And of this little group of two hundred and fifty white 
men charged with the task of holding four million raw, 
savage blacks in check, nearly four-fifths are stationed at 
Mombasa, Nairobi, Kisumu, and other railway points, 
while the outlying districts are held by a scant sixty men, 
posted in little bomas (garrisons) scattered along the 
coast and parallel to and never more than seventy- 
five miles from the Uganda Railway, divided up into 
"bunches" of three, two, or often no more than one 
white man to each boma, often remote from support, 
never with more than a handful of native troops under 
their command! 

It is a distinctly sporting proposition in government, 
is that of British East Africa, with every man in the game 
playing against what would appear superficially to be, 
and what may at any time become in cruel fact, hopelessly 
overwhelming odds. And yet one never hears a hint of 
a thought of anything of the sort from the men themselves. 
Quietly, coolly, and usually most efficiently are they 
doing their work. "Playing the game," they themselves 



would call it, in ultra-British idiom and playing it 
in a way to make a man proud to claim racial kinship 
with them. 

Four years ago there were not as many as a dozen 
white farmers in the Protectorate. Now the white popula- 
tion has risen to a total, including all officials, of perhaps 
1,200, and of these 550 are resident in Nairobi, the capital. 

Settlement, trade, sport, and travel are rigidly re- 
stricted, by the Outlying Districts Ordinance, to the nar- 
row policed belt lying along the railway, entirely within 
the outer lines of boma outposts. Entry into the vast 
areas comprising the "Closed Territory" lying to the 
north and south of the "open districts," without a special 
permit therefor from the Governor, is a penal offence. 
And very rarely are such passes issued for fear any 
holding them may in some way incite or become the 
victims of voluntary aggression by the shenzi (savages), 
and thus cause disturbances the slender forces of the Pro- 
tectorate might easily prove wholly inadequate to handle. 

It was for me, therefore, a stroke of rare good luck, 
for which I shall always feel deeply indebted to him, when 
Lieut.-Governor the Hon. F. J. Jackson, C. B., C. M. G., 
consented to issue me a pass for entering certain " Closed 
Territory," that enabled me to make a three months' 
safari through the countries of the Loita Masai, the 
Wanderobo, the Kavirondo, the Kisii, the Sotik, and the 
Lumbwa, the more for that both the Sotik and the Kisii 
had been in open, bloody revolt only a few months before 
the date of my pass. 

Lying midway between the two old Arab caravan routes 
from the coast to Victoria Nyanza, one starting from 
Mombasa and the other from Tanga, in what is now 


German territory, most of the country I traversed under 
the pass still remains unmapped. It had never before been 
entered by white men save by the Anglo- German Boun- 
dary Commission, whose work of locating and marking 
the boundary line between British and German East 
Africa had been finished roughly four years earlier, and 
six months earlier by the man I was fortunate enough 
to secure as a mate for the trip, George H. Outram, him- 
self formerly a Government official and a member of the 
Boundary Survey party of 1894. 

E. B. B. 
January I, 


THE story of the big game of Africa has been many 
a year in the telling, but it remains ever new. The 
freshness of it is perennial. To a lover of the 
physical aspects of nature, the book of the average 
African hunter contains such a wealth of wild-animal 
hunting adventures that the physical geography and the 
plant life suffer from lack of attention. It is not strange 
that in his effort to portray the marvellous abundance of 
wild-animal life in the most richly stocked game fields on 
earth, the landscapes, trees, and plants seem to the hunt- 
er like "trifles light as air." 

I am glad of this opportunity to urge upon my brother 
sportsmen the assurance that he who devotes all his atten- 
tion to the game and its pursuit, and ignores the remainder 
of Nature's open books of wild places, necessarily loses 
much that rightfully is his. It is not all of hunting to 
kill game. I would rather find a few animals amid 
grand or beautiful scenery than many animals in dull 
places. To every wild creature on earth, Nature has 
given its own special and appropriate stage setting, of 
rock and tree, or of field and stream. At least one-half 
the time the accessories are, to the comprehending eye, 
as interesting as the animal itself. 

So long as the big game of Africa holds its own upon 
the veldt, just so long will the public welcome new books 
that strive to portray its moods and its tenses. I hold it 



to be the duty of every right-minded gentleman-sportsman, 
who shoots wisely and not too much, to publish an account 
of his observations, no matter whether he includes his 
shooting records or not. From such dreadful tales of 
sordid slaughter as those of Neumann, the ivory-hunter, 
all people who care for the beasts of the field may well 
pray to be spared. 

Mr. Bronson's story is very much to my mind; and 
on hearing that it was to appear in permanent form, I 
was heartily glad. Through the chapters previously 
published I had followed him with interest and delight. 
He gratifies my desire to know the on-the-spot impressions 
of the explorer and hunter; for it is this personal equation 
that always brings the reader in closest touch with the 
hunter and his surroundings. His careful and clear 
descriptions of landscapes and the component parts of 
his African geography are delightful; and his frequent 
touches of humor, phenomenally rare in books on 
Africa, are most welcome exceptions to the African 
rule. Surely, a story of the Dark Continent need not 
by necessity be sombre. 

In perusing this and other recent tales of the great 
game herds of the East African plains, the reader natur- 
ally asks the question, What has the future in store for 
the game? Will the onslaughts of sportsmen and res- 
idents soon reach such a point of frequency that the game 
will be killed more rapidly than it breeds? 

It is upon the answer to this last question that the 
future of the big game depends. As a rule, it is not by 
any means the gentlemen-sportsmen, taking a modest 
toll of the wilds, who exterminate the game. In the first 


place, they are easily checked and regulated ; for all their 
acts are known. In about ninety per cent of all the 
extermination cases that are fully known, the commercial 
hunters, and the resident hunters who kill game all the 
year round, are the real exterminators. I think that in 
most localities one case-hardened resident who is deter- 
mined to live on the country can be counted upon to 
destroy more animal life each year than five average 
sportsmen who visit the same territory for brief periods. 

In those portions of the East African plateau region 
that are suited to agriculture, stretching from Bulawayo 
to Uganda, the wild herds are bound to be crowded out 
by the farmer and the fruit-grower. This is the in- 
evitable result of civilization and progress in wild lands. 
Marauding herds of zebras, bellicose rhinoceroses, 
and murderous buffaloes do not fit in with ranches and 
crops, and children going to school. Except in the 
great game preserves, I think that the big game of British 
East Africa is foredoomed to disappear, the largest 
species first. 

Five hundred years from now, when North America 
is worn out, and wasted to a skeleton of what it now is, 
the great plateau region of East Africa between Cape 
Town and Lake Rudolph will be a mighty empire, teem- 
ing with white population. Giraffes and rhinoceroses 
are now trampling over the sites of future cities and 
universities. Then the game herds, outside of the pre- 
serves, will exist only in memory, and in the pages of such 
books as "In Closed Territory" by Bronson, and in 
other books by hunters who shoot for themselves and 
write for the pleasure of their friends. For myself, I am 


glad that I live in the days of big game, in Africa and 
elsewhere; and as a natural corollary to a sportsman's 
life, A. D. 1910, it is his solemn duty to do his level 
best to insure that a good supply of wild life is left for 
the sportsmen of 2010. 


NEW YORK, January 15, 1910. 













XII. POTTING A PYTHON . ..... 177 



INDEX 285 














CROSSING LAKE MAGADI . . . . . . . .17 

















WAKAMBA WARRIOR ......... 72 







xviii ILLUSTRATIONS Continued 







FOLLOWING BUFFALO SPOOR . . . . . . . .no 























THE KOMO ........ r . 191 





WHILE AT JUJA.) . 202 



ILLUSTRATIONS Continued xix 


THE KAMPALA MERRY-GO-ROUND . . . . . . .212 





WAKAMBA WITCH DOCTORS . . . . . . . .222 










BAGANDA DANCERS .......... 244 


IMPALA BUCK SHOT AT 600 YARDS ....... 264 


DUIRS AT 30 YARDS ......... 265 









MY safari (caravan) was organized at Juja Farm 
early in December, 1908. George Henry Outram, 
an old Australian prospector of wide experience, 
a veteran of Coolgardie, of Kimberley and Johannesburg, 
had recently come in from a prospecting trip in the 
ranges lying between the Mau and Kisii Escarpments, 
close to the German border, from which he brought 
back fine specimens of copper, graphite, and other ores, 
and stories of lion, elephant, and rhino so thick and 
troublesome they left him scarcely half his time for work. 
The ore was in itself a potent lure, and the added tempta- 
tion of a chance of two or three months in a country still 
unoccupied save by wandering Wanderobo hunters, and 
known only to perhaps a half-dozen white men, teeming 
with the best specimens of many types of central plateau 
big game extinct in most other sections and rare in all, 
quickly decided me to go with him to his new diggings. 

Our third mate on the trip was William Judd, prob- 
ably the most experienced and capable hunter of African 
big game now living, a man who hunts to get his own best 
loved fun when no chance offers to go out professionally 
as safari leader for visiting sportsmen, a man who has 


shot from the Pungwe River, in far southern Portuguese 
East, all the way north to Abyssinia, and to whose rifle 
have fallen one hundred and fifty elephant and more 
lion, rhino, and big game of all kinds, than he has been 
able to keep count of. 

Indeed, the trio of us made a rather strong "three of 
a kind," perhaps not so very far below aces, for each was 
pretty well trained to a finish in every sort of wild-life 
hardship, and had a few laughs up his sleeve for any and 
all difficulties that might be handed us. 

The "staff" consisted of Regal Wassama, William 
Northrup McMillan's head cook, a splendid old Somali, 
wiry and active as a youth, with the keen eye and dignity of 
an Arab chief and the culinary skill of the best French 
chef, who, barring the time devoutly spent in saying his 
five long daily prayers, gazing and genuflexing towards 
Mecca, was unremitting in his care of us; Awala Nuer, 
a slender, middle-aged Somali shikari, whose one good 
eye was ever picking up game before mine had noted it ; 
my own boy Salem, a Swahili, so constantly thoughtful 
of my every want and so alert to fill it, that but for his sex 
I would back him to make the best conceivable high 
ideal of a wife ; and Molo, a Herculean, shaven-crowned 
Kavirondo table boy who, while trying his best to please, 
was ever chucking plates and knives and forks about as 
he was trained to hurl the assegai and knob-kerri he was 
carrying when I had first seen him, a few months before. 

To carry our camp kit, supplies, and general outfit, 
for a three months' trip required seventy wapagazi (por- 
ters), all of whom were picked from the farm forces, 
thirty-five stalwart Unyamwezi and Kavirondo, all trained 
men, unflinching on a trek, and thirty-five raw shenzi 















(savage) Kikuyu, the former good for sixty pounds to the 
man, the latter for no more than forty pounds. 

At daylight of December 9, Outram started for Nairobi 
with the safari, which also included seven little Abyssin- 
ian mules for our own use, and twenty-two donkeys to 
pack native food, chiefly beans and corn posho for the 
watagazi, for the country to which we were going was 
devoid of any form of native food except the meat of 
wild game, which Kikuyu do not eat. 

But the season was that of the "little rains," which at 
the moment happened to be a steady all-day downpour 
that turned the Athi Plains into a sticky marsh and com- 
pelled camping short of town. When morning came, 
Outram found that the Kikuyu, always faint-hearted, 
had bunked to a man, timid of a long trek away from 
their own country or sick of the weather. 

To our disgust we found Nairobi stripped of fit por- 
ters by the thirty safari outfits sent out in November, 
so that we were compelled to take on another lot of Kikuyu 
to fill the places of the deserters, and to get them de- 
layed us till the twelfth. 

And the first day's march was quite enough to stop 
and turn back any but an old-timer or the warmest of 
raw enthusiasts, for throughout the day rain poured in 
torrents, turning the alternating bush and rich meadow 
lands of the Kikuyu hills into fields of sticky mud nigh 
impossible for our porters to travel in. Thus at the end 
of seven hours our men were dead beat, and still we 
were out only nine miles from Nairobi. However, safari 
life in Africa is the best possible post-graduate course in 
patience, and this was only a hint of probably a lot more 
annoying delays ahead, so we made the best of it, hastily 


pitched our tents on the Ambagathi River, and huddled 
into them. 

The next day the rainfall continued so heavy we de- 
cided it would be folly to try to move except for a half- 
mile plod through the mud in the afternoon for tea with 
Lord Cardross, whose farm is the outermost one south 
from Nairobi. 

On the fourteenth the weather cleared sufficiently to 
enable us to move at daylight. At 7 130 A. M. I made an 
almost unpardonably early call on District Commissioner 
McClure and his charming wife, who from his Southern 
Masai Reserve Boma rules a district nearly as large 
as New England, with thousands of wild Masai and 
Wanderobo, the ancient lords of the domain, who still 
remain practically its only tenants, rules it, punishes 
its marauding raiders, and checks its savage feuds with 
no help but his own nerve and wits, a scant half-hundred 
native police, and the ominous spectre of British Imperial 
authority. Indeed, that very morning of my call he was 
just starting out on a punitive trek after a band of Lenani's 
Southern Masai, who the day before had raided a neigh- 
boring Kikuyu kraal, killed a number of Kikuyu warriors, 
and looted two hundred and seventy-eight cattle. 

Here at Mr. McClure's boma, a scant twelve miles 
from Nairobi, we left civilization behind us, for one 
might travel straight away a full thousand miles to the 
south without finding any white man's habitation, and 
entered the great Ukamba Game Reserve, which for its 
western half is also the home of the Southern Masai. 

Early in the morning we crossed the west shoulder of 
the Ngong range at an altitude of 6,500 feet, and then 
began a rapid descent from the cool verdurous central 





plateau to the arid, volcanic wastes to the southwest, 
camping at Ngong Spring, a feeble trickle of sweet water 
that within a few hundred yards of its birth disappeared 
in the burning sands of a deep, yellow-grassed, rocky 
gorge. Here at this spring we met scores of practically 
naked Kikuyu porters, men and women, loaded with three- 
foot cakes of carbonate of soda from the vast natural 
deposits of this salt in Lake Magadi, for the development 
of which a ninety-mile railway is planned if the samples 
then coming out prove satisfactory. 

The meeting of these Kikuyu coming up out of the 
south augured ill for our journey, for between Ngong 
Spring and the Guaso Nyiro River, sixty-four miles to 
the south, there is not a drop of living water. For this 
five days' ordinary safari marching, the trail traverses a 
horrid arid country hot as Death Valley, isolated black 
volcanic uplifts rearing here and there high into the sky 
their rugged, grassless slopes, the plains everywhere strewn 
so thick with sharp fragments of volcanic rock the traveller 
rarely has a chance to set foot upon soil, while the thin 
growth of grass and thorny scrub on the levels and lower 
hill slopes is for nine months of the year burned gray 
as ashes and brittle as straw by the fierce equatorial sun 
blazing twelve hours a day out of a cloudless sky, and 
making the volcanic rubble so hot one can hardly hold 
a hand on it for a second. Indeed, the route from 
Ngong to Magadi is only possible after the season of the 
big rains of the early spring months or after occasional 
heavy intermittent showers, when, at four points on the 
way, natural tanks worn by the brief torrential down- 
pours in the iron-hard volcanic rock are filled and afford 
a supply of fairly pure water until evaporation, occasional 


soda porters, and the nomadic Masai herdsmen and their 
flocks have exhausted it. 

Hidden in rocky, trackless gorges or on the very edge 
of lofty escarpments, the position of these tanks remains 
to this day unknown to more than half a dozen white men, 
but luckily for us, we had with us in Outram the first 
white man to find these natural tanks, when, attempting 
a trek across this country with a section of the Anglo- 
German Boundary Survey Commission, five years before, 
he had been forced to find water or perish. 

So, doubtful if we should find any water short of the 
Guaso Nyiro, and taking our chance of a complete wreck 
of our safari in the next two days, we bore away into the 
south at dawn of the fifteenth. 

Within the first hour and a half we dropped two 
thousand feet from 5,400 to 3,400, and it really 
seemed that with every foot of drop in altitude there was 
a rise of a degree in temperature. 

But in the matter of water we were lucky. Seven 
miles out we found a tank with just barely enough left 
to freshen up our porters, mules, and donkeys, and 
twelve miles farther on, the head of the safari at two 
o'clock reached the "Big Water Holes," but only after 
a march across a lava-strewn plain that seemed absolutely 
molten with heat. There we found an abundance of 
water in three huge natural tanks forty to fifty feet deep 
and one hundred feet in diameter, that looked like min- 
iature amphitheatres of some pigmy race, buttressed 
without with tall basalt columns, terraced within by 
varying stages of water-level erosion the level then very 
low, no more than four feet at the deepest. 

Muddy the water was, to be sure, and, worse, thick 


with the wash of the gulch above it, the higher crevices 
of the tanks incrusted with dry donkey dung washed 
down from soda caravan camps, and representing earlier 
high- water levels; but if not luxury, it meant life to us 
literally, for not a third of our porters would have reached 
camp but for the water we were here able to send back to 
them. And even at that the tough native porters came 
crawling in with feet, indurated nearly to hoof hardness, 
blistered, cracked, and bleeding from all-day plodding 
over the ragged, burning rocks, an utterly wretched, 
suffering, exhausted lot that made me wish I had never 
heard of a safari. 

But the two old-timers with me took it as a matter of 
course and ministered as best they could to the real 
sufferers, and then kept me roaring over their weird 
prescriptions for the shammers, one of whom was forced 
to take a strong whiff of an ammonia bottle, while another 
was given a mixture of pepper, salt, and a spoonful of 
oil from a sardine tin, and within half an hour each vowed 
he was cured of all that hurt him, whatever it was. 

At sunset the three of us strolled down to the tanks 
for a bath. Our boys brought us buckets of water, and 
each selected and retired to a niche in the face of the cliff, 
which just below the tanks fell away a sheer seventy feet, 
disrobed, and got busy with his sponge, to the immense 
entertainment, apparently, of a tribe of blue monkeys 
that sat on high pinnacles about us, chattering madly 
over our droll doings. 

Obviously another midday journey in the infernal 
heat would completely cripple half our men, so the morn- 
ing of the sixteenth we broke camp at 2:30 A. M, and 
with no better light than a moon well along in its last 


quarter, marched away through thorn scrub, up and down 
rocky hills almost impassable in daylight, but safely and 
truly piloted by the indomitable, never-hesitating Outram. 
About 4 A. M. we jumped three rhino, that in the dusk 
loomed up black giants twice their natural vast bulk, 
but, luckily for our porters, they scampered away, for 
it was far too dark to see a gunsight. 

By 8 A. M. Outram led us up and across a lofty range, 
whence to the west opened such a magnificent view as 
I have never before seen of volcanic action on colossal 
scale. West of us, and as far as eye could reach to north 
and south, extended a series of six vast lava ridges or 
terraces, one rising behind the other, with valleys from 
five to fifteen miles wide between them, terraces approxi- 
mately level of top, perpendicular of face, with scarce 
any points of access to their summits, black or dull red 
of color, the nearest and lowest probably 1,200 feet high, 
the others ranging to the rear and rising higher and higher, 
up to probably 3,000 or 4,000 feet. Like gigantic steps 
they rose to the lofty summit of the great Mau Escarp- 
ment, from which they appeared to have been rent away 
and dropped to lower levels, the intervening valleys 
representing tremendous sinks of surface caused by some 
frightful terrestrial convulsion that must have shaken this 
continent from end to end, and so fractured and crushed 
the old underlying formations that throughout British 
and German East Africa living streams and springs do 
not represent fifteen per cent of the volume of those of 
like rainfall in other parts of the world of less volcanic 
disturbance, and so condemned this region to virtually 
complete aridity. 

Shortly thereafter we descended to a broad, grassy 


plain full of zebra and Grand buck, almost the first 
game we had seen, by the way, since leaving Nairobi, 
and Outram led us a mile off our true course, where, hid 
away beneath a high rocky ridge and immediately on the 
edge of a lava cliff several hundred feet high, we found 
several natural rock tanks of sweet rain water the Kikuyu 
soda porters had not quite emptied. Already, at 9 A. M., 
the rocks were so hot one could scarcely hold a bare hand 
on them, and porters and animals were exhausted, so we 
camped for the day. 

Far down beneath us, at the low altitude of 1,980 feet, 
and at the lower end of the great Rift Valley or basin 
that stretches hundreds of miles away north into Abys- 
sinia, lay Lakes Magadi and N'garami, pinkish white 
fields of soda winding away beyond eye-reach toward the 
southern horizon, and looking like the winding-sheet they 
have often in the past proved and must many a time again 
become for unlucky adventurers into this veritable Valley 
of the Shadow of Death. 

At 4 A. M. of the seventeenth we were on the move, 
descending the escarpment by a semi-perpendicular trail 
toward the lake. Here a party of three East Indians with 
a lot of natives and donkeys, soda freighters, tried desper- 
ately to pass us, the leaders carrying water vessels. 
Suspecting they knew the water below to be scant, Ou- 
tram raced ahead to the tanks a mile short of Lake 
Magadi, and held them against the Indians until our 
safari arrived about 7:30; and lucky it was for us he did, 
for one rock basin of perhaps sixty gallons of fairly clean 
water and four others of semi-liquid mud represented 
the total water supply, and the last drop of it was ex- 
hausted in watering our men and animals. 


The situation was desperate. Ahead of us lay twenty- 
five more arid miles, utterly waterless, before we could 
reach the Guaso Nyiro River. Men and animals were 
exhausted and footsore. Two or three carefully hoarded 
quarts of water in our canvas bags was all we had left. 
The men were ugly and wanted to turn back. After a 
conference, we decided to lie there for the day and 
attempt to win through by a forced night march. 

The forenoon hours were tolerable within the shade 
of the rocks, but after eleven the ravine became a blazing 
inferno of heat, dull, breathless, that parched the skin 
and seemed to dry up the very fountains of life. A tent 
fly so little stopped the sun rays, one could not sit be- 
neath it without a helmet on, remove the helmet a 
moment and one's brain felt a-crackle with the heat. 

Shortly after eleven things began to happen, first 
bad, then good. The bad was the next worst thing, 
after the prevailing drought, that could have struck us. 
Our niapara (native headman) reported that, under 
excuse of hunting water up the gorge, thirty-five of our 
Kikuyu porters had deserted, and were racing up the 
cliffs towards the tanks we had camped at the night 
before. At first this seemed nearly our finish, for scat- 
tering like quail and climbing cliffs like goats, one might 
as well try to catch a shadow, while their going meant 
the loss of over a fourth of our transportation. However, 
when we came to figure that over seven hundred pounds 
of our supplies were already consumed, and when we found 
that our other porters remained stanch, we realized that by 
packing our seven saddle-mules we could take care of 
the excess loads our remaining porters could not carry. 

Then a corking bit of good luck befell us. One of our 




loyal porters found, a mile away, a fine tank previously 
unknown to Outram, that furnished sufficient water to 
give all our men and animals an afternoon drink and per- 
haps ten or twelve quarts besides for our twenty-five-mile 
march, meagre enough for forty-five men, but still 
far better than none. 

So at 5 P. M. we loaded the donkeys and Outram and 
I led out across the lake, Judd following on the rear of 
the porters. 

Crunching over wide pinkish white desiccated areas, 
slipping about in ashen gray slime, wading shallow 
channels, a mile and a half brought us across the lake 
and to the foot of a steep gorge that led to the top of the 
next escarpment. South or west of Magadi no paths 
exist but the game trails, so Outram led on and I remained 
till Judd arrived, just before dark, and then pushed on 
ahead to try to connect gaps in the straggling line of 
porters and prevent their straying and getting lost. 

Stumbling over grass-hid rocks and through belts of 
thorn thickets, keeping in touch with the fore and aft 
sections of the moving column only by constant calling 
back and forth, it was desperately hard going. Once for 
an hour Judd lost connection with our advance section, 
and I sat alone on a hilltop, shouting vainly for him, until 
I had lost all touch with the section ahead of me. At last, 
however, by rifle fire we signalled each other, and his 
tired and crippled men slowly crept up and joined me, 
and we stumbled ahead as near the course as we could 
guess, until finally a swinging lantern signalled us to the 
camp Outram had chosen, and glad we were to reach 
him about 10 p. M. 

No tents were pitched or beds made, but down we 


dropped among the luggage and slept till the moon rose 
at 2 A. M. of the eighteenth, when loads were again 
resumed and the march continued. 

Outram's work that night was the most remarkable 
piece of night travel I have ever known. Travelling by 
the stars, in a country where we were seldom able to 
keep a straight course for a quarter of a mile, turning 
sharply to right and left, on long detours to keep to ground 
that would not pitch us over a cliff or bump us into an 
insurmountable escarpment, the quarter-moon overcast 
most of the time, the ground covered thick with loose 
volcanic stones and often by solid walls of thorny scrub 
we had to push through or wind around, he brought us 
just at dawn to the mouth of the one narrow gorge in 
fifty miles that enables ascent to the next escarpment! 
It was astounding. 

Then came again the infernal sun, and men and 
animals began to weaken. The footing was frightful, - 
no footing, in fact, just slipping, wrenching, spraining over 
loose ragged rock masses, until about 9 A. M. we sighted 
far below us, in one of the deep valleys of the inter- 
escarpment region, the line of tall green timber that 
marked the course of the Guaso Nyiro, and then began 
descent over smoother country. 

But the last five miles were terrible, three across a 
level plain through grass shoulder-high and dry as tinder, 
and two through dense thorn thickets that made slow 
winding going, and yet offered little shelter from the 
scorching sun. The lead of our column reached this 
plain in fair form, but full a third of them would never 
have won through had not Outram and I hurried to the 


river with the ten strongest lead porters and sent water 
back to the stragglers. 

We reached the Guaso Nyiro at n A. M., Judd and 
about half the porters got in about i p. M., and ten more 
straggled in during the afternoon; but it was mid- 
forenoon of the next day before the remaining fifteen 
found strength to push in across the plain with their 
loads, a haggard, footsore lot that needed a day's rest, 
heavy sleep alternating with long sousings in the river, 
before we were able to resume our march. 

The camp was ideal. Superb big thorn and ficus 
trees, vine-clad, alive with monkeys and bright-hued, 
sweet-voiced birds, a swift-flowing fifty-foot stream of 
pure water teeming with fish (kumbari), and game every- 
where about us, so thick that all through the valley and 
at convenient stream approaches, paths wide as wagon 
tracks were worn deep into the soil, giraffe, Granti, 
gerenuk, oryx, lesser Kudu, rhino and buffalo, guinea- 
fowl, pau, spur-fowl, and partridge. 

In less than an hour the three of us caught forty-five 
fish, one-half to one-and-a-half pounders, while the boys 
caught them by scores. That night we feasted on 
kumbari a la Regal, that Frederick's sole a la cardinal 
could not beat, and on roast guinea-fowl. 



MOVED out well beyond the game reserve to the 
west of the Guaso Nyiro, the three of us were 
out before dawn of the nineteenth after rhino or 
buffalo. Within twenty yards of my tent we found where 
a rhino had passed in the night, and lucky it was he 
had not winded us. Only two months before, and at the 
same place, Outram's camp was charged at night by a 
rhino that actually trampled over one side of the blankets 
in which his mate, Robinson, was sleeping. All about 
us in the earlier morning hours buffalo had trailed in to 
and out from water, but we did not see one; all had 
trekked back into the thickest jungle, and were comfort- 
ably sleeping off their night's jag of food and water. 

All sorts of other game we saw by hundreds, but at 
nothing did we shoot until, about 8 A. M., the sun became 
unbearable and we decided to return to camp. Then I 
stalked and was lucky enough to kill a bull giraffe that 
measured fourteen feet, eight inches, from hoof to horn 
end, and fifteen feet, nine inches, from tip of nose to tip 
of tail, a bull I later learned from R. J. Cunninghame 
to be a true " Kilimanjaro giraffe" (Giraffa camelopar- 
dalis tippelskirchi), a species of which no then 
existed in the United States. Ordinarily I should never 
have thought of killing a giraffe, for they are wholly 
harmless, but our boys' feet were in such bad shape that 
marching unshod must remain impossible for some days, 



and the giraffe's three-quarter-inch hide makes the best 
sandals they can get. However, giraffes are so wary, 
their colors when in timber blend so perfectly with pre- 
vailing hues, their long necks are such convenient look- 
out towers for their high-perched heads, that stalking 
them successfully is so difficult that, as a rule, any 
sportsman who gets one has a handsome run for his 

My bull proved no exception. We first sighted him, 
with two cows, at a distance of about four hundred yards, 
and in an open clearing where effort for nearer approach 
was useless. My first shot, with a .405 Winchester, 
broke his left hip and ranged forward, and then the 
three were off at the rolling, side-wheel, drunken-looking 
gait of their kind. But before they disappeared into the 
bush I put two more shots into him and Judd one. 

Then we raced across the thicket and took up his 
spoor. And a rare chase he led us, through thickets one 
would never venture into in cold blood, for fear of face- 
to-face encounter with and certain charge by rhino or 
buffalo, bush so thick we often could not see the length of 
a gun barrel on any side of us. Once, on our right and 
not ten feet from us, we heard the whistle of startled 
buffalo and threw up our rifles for snapshots. But in- 
stantly brush began to crash and hoofs to thunder over 
the rocky ground, fortunately at right angles to our 
course. Had they come our way, we were so tightly shut 
in by thick bush that nothing could have saved one or 
other of us from a collision that would make butting into 
a freight train feel like a gentle bump. How many there 
were we never knew, indeed, neither of us had even a 
glimpse of one of them. 


Within a few hundred yards the spoor became difficult 
to follow, for it by turns followed or crossed scores of 
other giraffe tracks, but what with occasional drops of 
blood upon the ground or smears upon grass or bush, we 
managed to stick to him. 

Finally, after two miles at killing pace, streaming with 
sweat and racing a foot ahead of my mates, not be- 
cause I was faster, but by their courtesy, I sighted him 
through a thicket just as he started off from a brief rest, 
and gave him two more shots before he again got out of 
sight. But, blowing like a finisher in the Marathon, I 
placed the shots badly, and it was not until yet another 
two miles had been covered at heart-breaking gait that 
I again got him in range and brought him toppling down 
with a shoulder-shot through the heart. His mates we 
never saw again after their first disappearance. 

The hoofs, tail, skull, and head, and a few feet of the 
neck skin, were the only trophies I could manage to save, 
for even had the boys not needed the hide for sandals I 
could not have packed its tremendous weight. 

Leaving a boy to guard the carcass from the marabout 
storks, that in a short time would have left nothing but 
clean-picked bones, we hurried back to camp and sent 
the boys out, and a happy lot they soon returned, 
loaded with meat and hide with which their stomachs and 
feet were soon stoutly reinforced. 

The twenty-first of December we moved camp eleven 
miles south, parallel to the course of the Guaso Nyiro, 
to camp on the N'gari Kiti (clear water) River, traversing 
a wide plain level as a floor, the last third of the journey 
across alkali -incrusted, ashen-gray stretches in which our 
mules sank to the fetlocks. 





The N'gari Kiti is a roaring, rollicking, bold stream, 
plunging down from a source near the crest of the Mau; 
but four or five miles after leaving the south shoulder of 
N'guraman Mountain on a brave dash for union with its 
elder sister river, the Guaso Nyiro, it falls a pathetic 
victim of its venturesome spirit, drunk dry by the thirsty 
plain and then spewed up a mile farther down in the form 
of a swamp that harbors every deadly thing, winged, reptil- 
ian, quadruped, that Central Africa produces, fever- 
charged mosquitoes, python, rhino, buffalo, leopard, lion. 
Outside of it few of its denizens are ever seen in daylight. 

The last mile of approach to the N'gari Kiti is through 
a jungle absolutely impassable to man, without use of 
bush knives, except along game trails, but the bush is 
cut in all directions by the trails of rhino, buffalo, and 
giraffe, and, literally, almost wherever one can see the 
ground there are the footprints of scores or hundreds of 
the Big Ones. But the droll thing is that while these 
big fellows have deep-cut paths along which they easily 
race beneath low-arching, heavy-branched thorn and 
other scrub, nevertheless a man can only follow them 
crouched or on hands and knees half the time, and even 
so he generally finishes with arms and ears torn and 

This was the first really gay night about any of our 
eight camp fires. The day's march had not been hard, 
the porters were at last well shod, a clear, cool stream 
rippled merrily by, and the camp was full of meat. 
Donkeys and mules were bomaed in a thorn zareba in the 
centre of the camp, for the big bad ones were so thick 
about us it was more than an even chance something would 
charge through us, and the stampede of one's animals 


so caused is even more troublesome than the actual 
kills, our three tents were pitched on three sides of the 
boma, and the porters' seven fires were ranged in an 
outer circle about ours. 

Then while we ourselves dined luxuriously on giraffe 
tail soup and a ragout of giraffe tongue with tinned 
tomatoes and potatoes that would make a gourmet sniff 
at even green turtle soup, all our men were alternately 
minding huge chunks of meat and fish roasting on sticks 
at their fires, gorging themselves, singing and dancing, 
cutting long strips of zebra meat for smoking and curing 
on great square platforms of green boughs built for the 
purpose over each fire, and calling the Kikuyu all sorts 
of terrible pagan names for their stupidity in deserting 
at the very door to this land of plenty. 

And while we three white men of a Christian race 
stuffed ourselves without preliminary or postprandial 
grace, and our shenzi porters gracelessly gorged themselves 
like beasts, scarce thirty feet from our table stood the 
noble form of old Regal and the spare, ascetic-faced 
Awala, musically intoning their evening prayer to Allah, 
oblivious to all about as if alone in a monastic cell. It 
was a majestic rebuke to us, a weird mystery to the shenzi, 
whose voices were always lowered when the Somalis 
began to pray, and who sat contemplating them in wide- 
eyed wonder to the end of each prayer, awed, almost 
silent, as were we ourselves silent out of sheer respect 
for a religion that can give men such perfect self-control 
that no danger daunts them and no hardship or suffering 
wrings from them a plaint. 

Five times a day do they so pray, at dawn, at high 
noon, at four, at sunset, and before retiring, nor can 


anything interfere to delay these prayers, not even hungry 
masters. And before addressing Allah, mouth, face, and 
hands are carefully washed, the best turban wound about 
the head, the freshest garments donned, the feet bared; 
then, with a glance at the sun, if by day, or at the stars, 
if by night, to get their compass bearings, they spread 
their rugs, face toward Mecca, and begin a low droning 
chant that at a little distance might easily be mistaken 
for a well-intoned litany. 

If I could find it in my heart to envy good old Regal 
anything, and he is himself, in himself, a lot of things I 
should like to be, it would be that profound faith in the 
efficacy of his prayers which has served to endow a man 
born a wild Somali warrior nomad and now for years a 
cook, with the dignity of a cardinal and virtues that 
would put no end of so-called "good men" to shame. 
In my judgment, all lucky enough to reach the real 
heaven of really good men, no matter what their faith, 
will find there Regal Wassama. 

The night passed without incident, save that to- 
ward morning lions were heard grunting some distance 

By dawn of the twenty-second, as soon as we were able 
to see our gunsights, we had finished our coffee, bread, 
and bacon and were out with our rifles; for here was a 
rarely good chance of record trophies, here where the 
game is as undisturbed by hunters, bar the hidden pitfalls 
and the silent spear and poisoned arrow thrusts of the 
Wanderobo, as it was in the beginning of time, here where 
trophy hunters had never come before. 

It was an ideal morning, for heavy rain had fallen 
throughout the night, making easy the spooring of fresh 


tracks and softening dry grass and twigs until one's foot- 
steps were noiseless. 

From the moment we left camp our advance was 
slow and cautious on foot, behind us, the gun bearers 
with our spare rifles, behind them the syces leading our 
mules on winding game paths so low we had to crouch 
most of the time, where each turn of a bush might bring 
one face to face at arm's length with any old jungle 
warrior that would carry in his system as much of one's 
lead unless it was particularly well placed as a man 
could comfortably pack in a bandolier. 

We moved down river towards the swamp and out 
toward the wide alkali plain that extends south from the 
swamp four miles to Lake Natron. 

And it was a bit odd, our so going out in such infernal 
country, for only the day before each of us had vowed that 
any fool who liked, could go after rhino and buffalo in the 
thorn jungle of the river and the tall grass and vine tangle 
of the swamp, but he would have none of it; and now 
there were we three plunged into it, as if just a matter of 
course, prey each to the lure of the chase ! 

While the ground was covered with footprints made 
the day before, apparently everything had gone out to 
the open to feed or retired to the more secluded recesses 
of the swamp, for it was not until we reached the edge 
of the plain just at the upper end of the swamp that we 
found the first spoor made since the rain had stopped. 

But it was spoor worth while, a giant rhino whose 
footprints in the soft ground were a full twelve inches in 
diameter. Evidently he had been out for a night's 
ramble and feed in the plain, and had probably entered 
the swamp no more than half an hour ahead of us. 


Leaving mules and syces outside, we at once started 
into the swamp on his spoor, easy to follow as a highway, 
Outram in the lead, I next, and then Judd. 

Sometimes the rhino followed paths, sometimes 
crushed haphazard through the tangle, just as the fancy 
struck him. Luckily the wind was quartering, across the 
general line of his advance. 

We were not hurrying any. In fact, our pace would 
have made a passing funeral look like a Derby finish. 
Feet fell silent as the very dew itself. The least unusual 
sound reaching him meant either our losing him or his 
charging us, about an even-money bet which. 

It is droll, but in this sort of stalking big game I 
always find myself having to fight a persistent inclination 
to hold the breath to listen, one seems to hear better 
when not breathing, which, if not resisted, keeps me as 
hopelessly blown and unsteady for close shooting as if I 
had just finished a hundred-yard dash, until I have now 
long made it a practice, under such conditions, to keep 
saying or thinking to myself, "Breathe deep and slow!" 
Keep the lungs full and the hand is pretty sure to stay 

I don't know just what time we entered the swamp, 
but I should think it was within fifteen minutes of our 
entry that about fifteen yards ahead of us we heard the 
crunch of huge jaws and a mighty sigh of surfeit. The 
old giant had apparently found shade to his liking and 
was meditating a nap. Plainly he was unwarned of our 
presence. Sound told us he stood beneath a large, wide- 
spreading tree whose drooping branches met the thick 
mass of tall grass and bush that lay between us and com- 
pletely hid him from our sight. After perhaps four or 


five minutes' waiting, nerves tense and every sense alert, 
we thought we heard movement to his left and Judd 
turned to me, bronze cheeks white as paper, but square 
jaws set and eyes blazing battle, and whispered, "I believe 
there are two or three with him, if so, it 's apt to be hell 

And then a moment later another whisper came from 
Judd, "I think I can see his rump; shall I stir him up a 
bit?" and no more had I nodded assent before the roar 
of his heavy .450 cordite rifle was followed with shrill 
squeals of rage and pain, twigs cracked, great limbs 
snapped as the monster whirled toward the sound coin- 
cident with his injury, plainly swinging for a charge. 

Then I caught a glimpse of his neck, just back of the 
ears, and sent two .405 hard-nose Winchesters into it, 
and, an instant later, sighting the upper half of the head, 
gave him a third. At this third shot he swayed about 
in the bush for a few seconds and then crashed to the 
ground. While I was shooting, Outram fired once with 
his .303. 

All was now still beneath the tree, and after a few 
seconds we started clambering in to him, but, just as 
the vast carcass came in view, he tried to rise, and Judd 
gave him another .450. 

But his effort to rise proved, when we got to him, to be 
only the death throe. Judd's first shot had hit him in 
the left hip and probably angled through the kidneys ; his 
last had landed far back in the neck and below the spine. 
Of my two first shots one was four inches behind the 
ears, over and probably reaching the spine, the second 
two inches back of and an inch below the first, while my 
third had landed full in the curve of the head between 


eye and ears, about three inches below the left ear 
and a inch to the left of the centre of the "forehead." 
Outram's .303 was a few inches lower in the head, crum- 
pled up in the bone. 

It was my third shot that killed him, and at the same 
time exploded a fallacy I have read, to the best of my 
recollection, in every book I have ever perused on rhino 
shooting, viz., that it is folly to try to kill or even stop a 
rhino with a frontal head shot, that no rifle ball will 
penetrate its massive frontal bone structure. For when 
we came to remove the scalp and chop away the horns, 
we found my .405 had driven through the frontal bone 
and smashed the inner skull structure to fragments. 

And it was a prize I had! Not a "record," but close 
to it, a splendid old bull close to 3,000 pounds in weight, 
with an absolutely perfect front horn of graceful shape, 
23^ inches long and 24! inches in circumference at the 
base, while the back horn was 10 inches long and 24 inches 
at the base. His length from tip to tip was 12 feet, 7 
inches, his height at withers, 5 feet, 9! inches, while the 
circumference of his foot was 30 inches. He was killed 
at 7: 15 A.M., little more than two hours after leaving 
camp. To cut away his mask and horns, remove the 
hoofs, and cut strips from his full inch-thick hide for 
kibokos (whips) and canes, took us about two and one- 
half hours. 

The foregoing horn measurements were made the 
night the rhino was killed. Thoroughly dried, the front 
horn measured 22 inches on the outer curve and 22^ 
inches in base circumference, the rear horn, 9^ inches 
in length and 23 inches in base. Rowland Ward records 
only one black rhino horn above 24^ inches in base (and 


that one 24! inches) and only seven better than 22 inches, 
and no rear horn above 23^ inches in base and only two 
above 22 J inches, thus placing my N'gari Kiti giant high 
among the top-notchers. 

As soon as the trophies were secured and started for 
camp we clambered out of the swamp, and then ambled 
away south to the much larger swamp lying between 
Shombol Mountain and Lake Natron, wherein the Guaso 
Nyiro River finishes its career. There, Outram told us, 
were buffalo in hundreds. A high ridge of dry ground 
near the centre would, if we could reach it, command 
a wide view down into the long grass where by day 
the buffalo were browsing or asleep. To negotiate the 
four miles of intervening alkali plain, floundering 
through deep pools made by the previous night's rain, 
and laboring through mud into which our mules sank 
half-way to their knees, took more than two hours. 

To the east of us the majestically buttressed summit of 
Shombol, and to the west the lofty uplift of the southern 
extremity of the Mau Escarpment, stood as a giant gate- 
way, a worthy southern entrance, about five miles wide, 
to the great Rift Valley, there immediately guarded, as 
by a colossal fosse, by Lake Natron. This winding 
along the foot of the Mau in its northern reaches, bends 
east to and past the southern flanks of Shombol, per- 
petually sentinelled by Sonya's beautiful volcanic cone 
rising, midway of the gateway but miles to the south of it, 
to a height, I should think, of at least 9,000 feet. 

As we neared the swamp, scores of acres of slightly 
raised and dry ground were found to be covered thick 
with buffalo "sign," trampled and littered like a farm 
barnyard. But try as we would, never a black back could 


we see. So presently we started for a try to reach the 
tall ridge in its midst that lay about three-quarters of a 
mile from where we struck the swamp. 

Here there was no bush, only tall swamp grass and 
rushes, eight to fourteen feet high, and along the deeper 
water channels a still higher and thicker growth of cat- 
tails. For a few hundred yards the ground was boggy, 
but not very bad, nor were the channels very deep. 

When in about a thousand yards we heard the shrill 
whistle of a buffalo a short distance ahead of us, but at 
first could not see him. Presently, however, as he crashed 
away past us, Judd caught a glimpse of him and tried a 
snapshot, but apparently missed. 

Then we chugged on through the marsh, a short dis- 
tance farther finding ourselves -compelled to dismount 
and wade, and then bumping into a broad, sluggish, one- 
hundred-foot channel that fell away to a depth nearly 
over one's head at the very edge and looked too ominous 
of crocodiles to be attractive. So we back-trekked 
and circled the north end of the swamp and finally found 
a place where we could flounder through the channel 
without quite swimming our mules. Then we prospected 
along its western edge without result, until one of our 
boys volunteered to try a crossing, won through, and poked 
about for nearly two hours, finally returning with advice 
of plenty of buffalo a half-mile away but a lot of hope- 
lessly bad going intervening. 

While the boy was gone, Outram whipped out a hook 
and line, found a boy who was treasuring a titbit of the 
rhino, and, commandeering it for bait, in a short time 
landed about twenty pounds of fine kumbari, ranging 
from one to three pounds in weight. 


The boy back and the fish wrapped in green grass and 
stowed in our saddle pockets, about 2 p. M. we started for 
camp, on a wide circle to the west in hope of getting 
quicker out of the soft alkali plain to hard ground. In 
an altitude here below 2,000 feet, the heat on the open 
plain was terrific. Great herds of Wildebeeste to the 
west of us in the mirage looked big as elephants, while in 
the shimmering heat waves Natron itself looked more 
like a mirage than real water. 

After about two miles we reached slightly higher 
ground and better footing, along which we proceeded for 
another half-hour without incident. It was then about 
3 130 P. M. and we had come near to the southwest corner 
of the N'gari Kiti swamp. 

Tired with ten hours' constant going afoot and a-mule, 
and drowsy with the heat, for some time I had been dozing 
comfortably in the saddle, unmindful of game of any sort, 
when suddenly I was roused by a low whistle from Judd, 
to find him gazing, face muscles tense, into the tall grass 
on my left. It needed only a glance to see that there 
before us, a scant one hundred and forty yards away, 
stood at last the royal quarry we had been seeking since 
morning, two splendid big buffalo bulls, their noses 
up, pointed, sniffing to precisely locate a scented enemy, 
their great heads and thick horns obscuring even their 
massive shoulders! 

Instantly we bounced off the mules, and scarcely were 
our feet on the ground before here they charged, straight 
at us. 

All three of us opened fire together, but despite the 
rain of lead, on they came without swerving until, at 
about thirty yards, they turned to our left, toward Lake 


Natron, for a few jumps, when the old fellow again 
started to whirl upon us, but as he turned, Judd gave him 
a .450 in the mid ribs that made him change his mind. 

Within fifty yards of their first turn they disappeared 
over a low ridge and we raced after them. When we 
reached the top of the ridge, there below us, perhaps 
twenty yards away, the two grim old warriors stood at 
bay, badly wounded. But they were still full of fight, 
facing us, and the moment we appeared again they 
started a charge, but before they had made half a dozen 
jumps, Judd downed the young bull with a .450 in the 
shoulder and I the old bull with a . 405 in the centre of the 
chest. And there, down and practically out as they 
seemed, they still showed so much fight on nearer approach 
that Judd advised, for safety, giving each a careful 
finishing shot, which we did. 

One of my -405's was found crumpled up inside the 
skull of the younger bull, my first shot at him, and that 
it had not bowled him over at once was remarkable, 
while my first on the old fellow had caught him aft of the 
shoulder and ranged back through the lung. Judd's 
first had hit the young one in the hip. The old one 
also proved the tremendous toughness of their fibre, for 
Judd's . 450, which had entered the mid ribs and turned 
his second charge, protruded but did not puncture the 
skin on the opposite side, we cut it out and I have it, 
almost unblunted, after traversing a great seventeen- 
hundred-pound carcass, that even a .450 cordite car- 
tridge could not drive a hard-nose ball clean through. 
Outram had landed in the pair three .303's, but they were 
only flea bites to these giants. 

The two bulls fell and lay dead within precisely nine 


feet of each other, both, as seen in the photograph, falling 
headed the same way, toward their enemy. 

They were splendid specimens of two types of bull, 
one absolutely in his prime, perhaps seven or eight years 
old, with perfect, symmetrical, unbroken horns, and the 
other a hoary old warrior, goodness only knows how old, 
grizzled, and with both horns short by five to six inches 
of their original length, broken and worn blunt and 
smooth in battles unnumbered with the doughtiest of his 

The horns of the younger bull measured 41 1 inches 
on their widest spread and 27 J inches from tip to tip, 
while the breadth of the boss was 15 J inches. 

The old bull measured 39! inches from tip to tip and 
42 inches on the widest horn spread, with a i2j-inch boss. 
They showed hard use and long, honorable service, did 
these old, worn Nature's weapons, smooth and polished 
like ebony from tip to base by mighty fence, wrench, 
and tussle with the best metal of their kind, whereas 
half the length of the younger bull's horns were rough 
and corrugated, their fine, sharp points intact. 

But the old bull brought me another trophy rarer 
and that I prize even more than his splendid mask and 
horns. While the men were working on the head, Judd 
noticed a small black shaft about the diameter of a small 
slate-pencil standing perpendicularly out of his right loin, 
near the spine and six inches in front of the hip. Asking 
the boys what it was, one answered, with a laugh, 
"Other hunters have been out long before you, Bwana, 
but their resas (cartridge) was not as good as yours; 
that is a Wanderobo poisoned arrow." And so indeed it 
proved when, after five minutes' cutting and tugging, 


the arrow head was withdrawn from the bull's tough 
back muscles. 

It was a remarkable and probably unparalleled 
example of the great power of the Wanderobo bow. 
From its sharply barbed point to its base, the arrow head 
was 5^ inches long, and 4j inches of its length had been 
driven through the half-inch hide and on into the heavy 
muscles of the loin! 

Since it stood perpendicularly in the loin, it must 
have been shot into the bull while he was passing beneath 
a tree, or when he was drinking directly below some over- 
hanging bank, both methods of attack favorites of the 
light-armed Wanderobo. 

While the Wanderobo poison is deadly to beasts within 
five to twenty minutes when fresh, applied to arrow heads 
in this dry climate it cakes to the hardness of enamel in a 
few weeks and becomes harmless. Luckily for the old 
bull, it was evidently such an old disenvenomed arrow that 
had perhaps by mistake or as the last in the quiver, been 
driven into him. The poison is made from the bark 
of a bush much like a laurel, which is boiled down and 
down until it becomes a thick, gummy, concentrated 
extract. So prepared, it is thickly smeared over the 
barbed head and three or four inches of the arrow's 
shank or shaft. How the plant is known botanically, or 
whether it is known at all, I am unaware^ but it bears 
a purple fruit, quite the shape and about the size of a 
small olive, which I understand is not itself poisonous. 

So armed, the Wanderobo tackle and kill anything, 
from the tiniest buck up to elephant, their favorite tactics 
a silent shot from a brush shelter built within five to ten 
yards of a much-used watering place. Such primitive 


shooting covers one sees daily above springs and along 
streams in mountains and plains of the Wanderobo 

And precisely as the Wanderobo is an artful economist 
of energy in making his kills, so also is he a cunning labor- 
saver in dealing with the meat he takes; for directly a 
beast is so struck, off goes a runner to whatever near-by 
forest glade or bush recess is for the moment harboring his 
nomadic, houseless family and kin, and up they come on a 
run, young and old, like ravening wolves, and there stop 
until no scrap is left that even a vulture would covet, pack- 
ing comfortably away in their stomachs what a white 
man would first laboriously carry somewhere on his back 
before getting the good of a bite of. 

And this particular arrow head the old bull carried 
would plainly have gone much deeper had it not struck a 
rib, for as found the thin head was bent almost to right 
angles with its shank by contact with bone! 

That it was a very old wound was obvious, for not 
only was it entirely healed, bar local irritation about the 
head, but in places where the hard black enamel-like 
coating of the poison was worn away, the shank was much 

While at the time I realized I had a superb trophy 
in the head of the younger bull and a fine one in the older 
bull, I never dreamed I was crowding records until, upon 
my return to Juja, I got hold of the fifth edition of Row- 
land Ward's "Records of Big Game," a short perusal of 
which showed that of all the known best specimens of 
Cape buffalo ever shot, over their entire range past and 
present, from the Cape to Somaliland, very few have ex- 
ceeded 1 1 inches in breadth of boss and none have equalled 


the 15 J inches of my younger bull, excepting a head shot 
by F. C. Selous, whose measurements were 41 inches on 
widest spread of horns, 24! inches from tip to tip of horns, 
and i6j inches in measurement across face of boss, against 
my 41 J, 27, and 15 J inches for the same measure- 
ments, thus giving my fellow second place in this par- 
ticular, while only seven bulls reported have equalled the 
12^-inch boss of my older bull. This record pertains only 
to the big Cape buffalo proper; as for the smaller type of 
Abyssinian, while only one boss is returned of more than 
10 inches, nevertheless one splendid fellow killed by 
Mr. R. A. Colvin had the breadth of 30^ inches, obviously 
a magnificent freak. 

It was 7 P. M. when we reached camp that night with 
our buffalo trophies, for we were forced to do an extra two 
miles by losing our way in the dense thorn jungle of the 
N'gari Kiti valley, in fact, we only regained camp at all 
by exchanging rifle-shot signals. And while most happy, 
a more tired and hungry trio would be hard to find, for we 
had been out fourteen hours in the blistering sun on scant 
water rations and without a morsel of food since our day- 
light breakfast. However, a wash, a tot of whiskey, a 
delicious giraffe tail soup, boiled buffalo tongue, and 
beans done as your Boston aunt used to cook them, made 
us fit for a pipe each, and then we tumbled into our 
blankets and a sleep that needed a deal of waking at four 
the next morning. 



FORCED to remain in our N'gari Kid camp the 
twenty-third, to clean, cure, and dry the skins and 
heads, I started out at dawn after gerenuk or les- 
ser Kudu, both now very rare buck in British East Africa 
and both, the latter especially, extremely hard to get, 
always alert and off like the wind at first scent or glimpse 
of you. Riding up to the crest of high, sandy, rocky ridges, 
densely covered with thorn and sanseviera, the wild fibre 
plant, the sort of country these bucks love, lying between 
N'guraman and the Mau, Outram and I dismounted and 
for five hours slipped along afoot, closely scanning every 
opening about us with our glasses. 

Everywhere we went the ground was covered with 
fresh tracks of buck of all sorts, from little dik-dik up to 
giant eland, and much giraffe and rhino and some buffalo 
sign, and yet throughout the first five hours' tramp we 
saw no animals save three herds of beautiful impala, 
which we carefully avoided disturbing, and a few tribes 
of tiny monkeys and giant apes, which barked and chat- 
tered their surprise and then swung away through the 

Finally, about half-past ten, our quest was rewarded. 
Suddenly out of his concealment behind a mimosa bush 
sprang a Kudu bull, about one hundred and fifty yards 
dead ahead of us, flashed like a meteor across a narrow 
open glade, seen by me for no more than two seconds, and 



then, disappearing on our right, headed past us and back 
along the slope of the ridge we were following. 

With little hope of again seeing him, but taking the 
chance, I sprinted my best about one hundred yards to the 
next opening in the bush, along the course he was taking, 
and got there just in time to see him spring out of the 
tangle into an opening in a field of sanseviera and stop for 
an instant, head turned and listening, one hundred and 
fifty yards below me. Knowing I had not a moment to 
spare, I fired the moment I caught my bead on him, and 
while I plainly heard the ball hit him heavily, away he 
bounded, as strong apparently as when I first sighted him. 

Running down to take up his spoor, however, I had not 
gone ten feet before the heavily blood-reddened sanse- 
viera leaves told me I had him. When I reached him 
he was stone dead, shot through the upper third of the 
heart by a .35 Mauser soft nose which had passed on 
clear through and out of him, and yet he had made the 
marvellous run of one hundred and eighty yards before 

His horns were a beautiful pair measuring 31} inches 
on the outside curve and 15 inches from tip to tip, their 
perpendicular height being 24^ inches, a rare prize in these 
days when very few African sportsmen's bags include 
lesser Kudu of any sort. 

That night we dined on buffalo tail soup, the liquid 
thick and strong as beef tea, the meat deliciously sweet 
and tender, far better flavored than even giraffe tail, and 
on fried kumbari, followed by roast koorhaan, a bird about 
the size of and as tender and well flavored as a spring 

The twenty-fourth we moved ten miles up the steeply 


rising valley of the N'gari Kiti to a camp a thousand feet 
higher (viz., at 3,000 feet) on a small tributary, the N'gari 
Nyiro, our first stage on the ascent of the Mau. At this 
camp we enjoyed a delightfully cool temperature, and it 
was indeed a great relief from our fortnight in the hot 
lowlands, where, bar our sleeping hours, we were con- 
stantly streaming with sweat. Near the head of this 
valley dwells a small tribe of Loita Masai, who disown 
allegiance to Lenani, and who, besides the care of their 
flocks and herds, and contrary to Masai tradition and 
habits, till the soil and eat its produce. 

Here, high up on the foothills of the Mau, we spent our 
Christmas Eve, rather a silent one, for me, I know, 
a very sad one, each filled with longings for those he 
loved best. 

Christmas Day we sent our donkey loads and twenty 
porters on to the summit, under our headman, ourselves 
remaining in camp to finish curing our trophies, for heavy 
rain had fallen the night before and their drying was un- 
finished, for me a lazy day, the first real rest since the 
start, spent alternately making diary notes, dozing, and 
reading the latest New York Heralds (my latest!), of dates 
from November i to 8, which till then I had not had time 
to open, papers with the first news I had read, other 
than a three-line Reuter despatch, of the happy results of 
our elections, and stating that President Roosevelt had 
delayed his sailing date for Mombasa until March 24. 
That would bring him here the end of April, still really 
a month too early, for the big rains usually do not stop 
before the end of May. 

The morning of the twenty-sixth we were off at day- 
light for the ascent of the Mau, over Outram Pass, the 



only accessible point known for nearly a hundred miles 
north of the border. The buttressing foothills and higher 
slopes of the range that seem to offer easy access to the 
summit prove on trial only comparatively isolated up- 
lifts, either hopelessly precipitous on the far side or lead- 
ing to downright impassable cliffs above. While guide to 
the Imperial Boundary Survey four years before Outram 
discovered this pass, and there are now in the country 
only two men besides himself who know it. 

By desperate hard work, drenched within by per- 
spiration and without by the sopping wet grass and 
foliage, we reached the summit at 6,500 feet, being an 
ascent from our camp of 3,500 feet in three hours. Three- 
fourths of the way the thorn scrub on the mountain side 
was so dense that progress was only possible afoot up 
winding rhino trails so steep and shut in by creepers, one 
could not ride. Then we got up out of the jungle, into a 
more open, big-timber country of less steep slope, where 
occasionally we could for a few hundred yards rest our 
tired legs and bursting lungs. Just here we lost our first 
donkey, of characteristic tsetse fly sickness, and lucky 
we were it was so far only one. 

Just before arriving at the summit the real key to 
the pass was reached, a lofty knife-blade ridge scarce 
eight feet wide, strewn with granite bowlders, which con- 
nected the buttress we had ascended with the upper 
escarpment. On either side this ridge fell away almost 
perpendicularly for probably 2,500 feet, and along it we 
rode for the several hundred yards of its length, so fagged 
we did not mind chances of a mule stumble that might 
easily toss man and beast over the edge, for often the 
scattered bowlders compelled riding along its very lip. 


Unfortunately, heavy banks of cloud lay 1,500 to 2,000 
feet below us on either side, and deprived us of what, on 
a clear day, must be a most magnificent view to north, 
south, and east. 

The summit reached, we crossed a superb belt of big 
timber, hardwood trunks five or six feet through, rising 
sixty to eighty feet straight as a spear shaft and without a 
limb, and then began a rapid descent through the rich- 
est wild grass country I have ever seen, green, sweet, 
juicy, and such a thick mat one could not walk a half- 
mile through it without exhaustion. At 5,400 feet we 
camped on a high bench above the headwaters of the 
N'gari Kiti, which a few miles away drops to the arid 
eastern plains through an impassable gorge. We found 
all too tired to engage in the usual evening shoot. 

The twenty-seventh we travelled ten miles west, most 
of the time within a few thousand yards of the German 
boundary, over the beautifully grassed, timbered, and 
watered inter-range region of the Mau, much of it hard 
going but nothing like the previous day's cruelty. Besides, 
the air was exquisite, keen and bracing to a degree that, 
for the first day since our start, made men and animals step 
out as if they were really alive. We camped early, at 
6,100 feet, on a boisterous little mountain stream to 
hunt eland, the biggest and finest of the antelope family, 
the larger bulls weighing up to fifteen hundred, now 
extinct or rare in most parts. Here they are thick, to 
judge by the trails. But as usual they are hard to see 
when you want them, especially since they stick pretty 
close in thorn scrub. We also hoped to bag here in the 
tall timber of the higher ridges our legal quota of colobus 
monkeys, the big long-furred black and white chaps, 


most prized, by sportsmen, of all the monkey tribe. It 
was a fine shooting country, thick belts of heavy forest 
alternating with wide, open glades and thorny slopes. 

Going out afoot at noon with Judd and our gun bear- 
ers, within an hour we sighted several eland, some graz- 
ing, others dozing among the mimosa, and stalked the 
big bull of the lot to within an easy two hundred yards. 
There I fired and hit him behind the shoulder with the 
.405 so hard he staggered and nearly fell, but knowing 
their great vitality and taking no chances, Judd and I 
gave him two more each, when he stumbled behind a 
thicket. But upon running up, sure we had him, it was 
only to see his tail wig-wagging us a farewell as he en- 
tered heavy timber four hundred yards away. Through 
long grass and forest, trailing was slow and difficult, but 
so Awala and I followed him for nearly four hours, when, 
with night approaching and camp far behind, we had to 
give him up. 

No colobii did we see going out or back, but I shot two 
birds of most beautiful plumage, both plantain eaters, 
blue heads shading into green necks, with red wings and 
long blue tails, a poor apology for what we went after, 
but still lovely trophies. 

The twenty-eighth missed being our red-letter day by 
several sizes. Always difficult to keep a marching column 
of porters in close order, in a trackless, rugged mountain 
country, where the long grass is lined everywhere with the 
passing of wandering game, the moment any stragglers 
lose sight of the advance or rear, there is always a chance 
of their getting lost. Molo, the burly Kavirondo table 
boy, had been intrusted with a valuable twelve-bore 
Purdy and the water bottles, and ordered to stay in reach 


of my mule's tail. But by mid-forenoon I missed him and 
halted the advance. A scant hour before I had killed 
two kongoni for the porters, and he was then present. 
But when first the quick-marching porters and then the 
slow-moving donkeys came in, neither porters nor donkey 
boys remembered seeing him since the last kill. So there 
was nothing for it but to off-saddle and stop, and send 
boys out with guns and whistles to try to signal him. 

Finally, after four hours, he was brought in, worn out 
and fagged from a five-mile detour south of our course 
into German East Africa, all come of sheer stupidity, 
careless indifference to his morning orders, and loss of 
touch with the column. 

Our luncheon was over and we were ready to resume 
the march, so immediately he appeared I ordered him 
stripped of the cartridge bag and gun, his insignia as a 
tent boy, assigned him the heaviest load in the lot, and 
told him if he was not in the night camp with the first ten 
porters he would carry two sixty-pound loads the next 
day. The result was amusing, for throughout a par- 
ticularly hard afternoon's march, heavily burdened as 
he was, he was never one hundred feet behind my mule. 
But he got in surly and ugly, his great underlip pendent 
somewhere in the vicinity of his knees. 

Indeed, the fact is after all that the African black is 
nothing but a grown-up child, on whom no punishment 
short of a corporal drubbing counts. The load penalty 
I had decreed only left him surly; but when, later, Judd 
ordered him out with others to fetch firewood and he sat 
tight by his fire and returned a surly stare, and Judd 
hurled at him a heavy knob-kerrie that landed him a hard 
smash on the shins, out he flew and did the work of three 
men, cheerfully singing at his task. 


Nor was Molo's getting lost our only mishap, for at 
4 P. M. we awakened to the fact that all the donkeys and 
over half the porters had lost touch with the advance and 
strayed in the jungle. And by every ill token the lot 
lost had all our tents, blankets, and the cook's mess kit. 

We were then on the higher slopes of Lengijabi Moun- 
tain, at a height of 6,800 feet, and the keen evening chill 
of the high plateau had already driven us into our coats. 
We built big signal fires of grass and green leaves that 
sent up tall smoke columns, and searched with our glasses, 
the lower country we had crossed, but all to no purpose, 
until, about an hour before sunset, we sighted them cross- 
ing a bit of open slope at least five miles away, headed 
due north instead of west! So plainly there was nothing 
to do but camp where we were, on a rocky slope steep as a 
roof and at least four hundred feet above the nearest 
water, rain pools in the canyon below. 

Of course a runner was sent after the stragglers, and 
about 9 P. M. a few lead porters got in with a part of the 
mess kit and we had a bit of supper, most conveniently, 
for no more were we laid down, somewhat sheltered in 
wind-breaking nooks of the rocks, and wrapped in noth- 
ing but our raincoats, before a pelting cold rain came on. 
It drove us into a huddle about the camp fire for the 
rest of the night, and caused heavy drafts on our phil- 
osophy to concede, what was really the fact, that the boys 
were little to be blamed for going astray in the frightful 
tangle of deep gulches and thorn and cactus thicket our 
afternoon's course had traversed. 

However, by sun-up the last of the strayed porters 
climbed into camp, for they had reached the bottom of 
the canyon beneath us early in the morning but had 
found ascent in the dark impossible. 


Here, again, we were upon a trek practically impas- 
sable to any white man but Outram, for from Duck Creek, 
our night camp of the twenty-ninth, to the Kibaibai Hills 
and Springs, a distance of fifty-five miles, there are no 
streams or springs, not a drop of water except natural 
rain tanks he found while leading the advance of the 
Boundary Survey. But, mystery to me though it was, 
he was able to find them again, and straight to each he 
marched, unerring, notwithstanding none lay near by 
any prominent landmark, - now plunging down to the 
bottom of a deep gulch covered with scrub we had to crawl 
through, again winding up a dry, rocky gorge like as two 
peas to many others near by, again scrambling to the 
summit of some lofty crag, undistinguishable by us from 
its fellows. Only once in the four camps we made on this 
fifty-five-mile dry belt did Outram fail to score true on the 
water, and then he fetched it after a two hours' search. 

The night of the twenty-ninth, after an easy march over 
treeless uplands of the eastern slope of the Mau Plateau, 
we camped about three miles from Mount Ol Albwa, 
beside one of Outram's clear, cold rain pools and in a 
thick grove of candelabrum cactus, and took good 
pains to stoutly boma our mules and donkeys inside a 
narrow ring formed by our eight tents and camp fires, 
for three lion were close to our camp the previous night, 
and thence west they were about every night and might 
give one a look-in any time. And by eight o'clock we 
were not sorry we were well bomaed, for two big fellows, 
big indeed if they were big as their deep voices, were hail- 
ing from a distance of a few hundred yards, hailing us 
with deep guttural grunts which, bar the fierce snarl when 
attacking from short range, is about the only sound one 


ever hears from the wild lion. Few men have ever heard 
him "roar," and only one such case have I heard of where 
he was not at the time in battle with one of his mates. 

For fifteen minutes our serenaders slowly approached 
us, and then their voices receded; off they were for a prowl 
in another direction. 

Now we were come again into a country alive with 
game, wooded hills, ravines, and naked plains alike, 
eland, Wildebeeste, topi, Granti and Thompsoni zebra, 
buffalo, giraffe, rhino, water buck, all thronged in for 
fresh range, there made available during the rains, from 
their dry-season haunts near the springs and small creeks 
of distant better watered sections of the Mau. 

So the next morning I went out with Outram after 
eland. It was slow, hard work, of necessity afoot, for 
the eland are few, and since they may be found running 
with almost any mob of game, every bunch of zebra, 
Wildebeeste, impala, or other buck one sees, one needs to 
scan everything carefully with glasses, and then, if no 
eland are present, slip softly past, without disturbing them, 
to the next mob. 

Shortly after sunrise and when well up on the north 
slope of Ol Albwa, slipping along through the bush 
some distance from Outram, seventy-five yards ahead in 
a little opening I saw a group of I did n't know what 
big black fellows with dull yellow tortoise-like spots, 
great round ears, upstanding manes, and white-tipped tails, 
coolly looking me over and snarling in concert. What- 
ever they were I wanted one of those quadrupedal co- 
nundrums, and dropped the biggest I could see, tall as a 
big setter, with a ball through the shoulder when off 
out of sight scampered the eight or ten of his fellows. 


When Outram came up and I asked him what it was 
I had bagged, he replied: 

"Wild dog and you are in luck, for usually when 
you kill one the pack is on you in a second, and it is up 
in a tree or down their throats for yours. Why, during 
the Survey Dr. Chevalier was treed by a pack of about 
eighty, and notwithstanding he soon killed twenty or 
thirty, all he had cartridges for, up the tree they 
held him for five mortal hours." 

So clearly I w r as lucky, for I am none too well built for 
tree-climbing, and the local variety of thorn tree is amaz- 
ingly contrived to make desperate tough going for the 
best climber. 

A half-hour later, while crossing a small patch of three- 
foot grass, out of it a few feet in front of me up stood the 
wide-hooded, blue-black, hideous head of a seven-foot 
m'piri or black cobra, poisonous as an adder, an ill-man- 
nered beggar who spits at you and ruins the sight if he 
hits an eye, so these Africanders say. This chap took a 
snapshot at me, but if I can't climb trees I am ready to 
back myself at heavy odds as a snake-dodger. I wanted 
his skin, but before I could get the shotgun he had slipped 
into thick bush where none of us cared to follow him. 

It was eleven o'clock before we sighted eland, when a 
herd of eight came over the summit, startled by a shot 
by Judd on the opposite side of the mountain. We had 
only an instant's glimpse of them, quite out of safe range, 
and then they were lost in the bush. But we soon got 
their trail and for six hours followed it, up and down, 
through glade and bush, to a three-fourths complete 
circuit of Ol Albwa's broad flanks. Only once more 
did we sight them, still out of range. 


But while the day yielded nothing tangible but the 
wild dog and a buck shot for the porters, it was still a day 
that had one's nerves a-tingle and every sense alert from 
dawn till dark; for fresh rhino and buffalo sign was 
everywhere, lion tracks made that same morning were 
several times encountered on paths we had to follow to 
hold to our eland spoor, and any turn of a bush might 
have brought on a scrap that would take quick and 
straight shooting to win. 

The real reason for our stop of a day at Ol Albwa, 
however, was in order to send back a lot of porters to 
search for my Kudu head, which had been lost off one 
of the donkey loads two nights before, when they were 
astray in the thickets about Lengijabi. And it was de- 
lighted I was when, upon reaching camp in the evening, 
I found the men returned with it. For the Kudu was, 
so far, my greatest treasure. Any man may have his 
chance at a rhino or buffalo if he cares to incur the risks 
of going after them, but few sportsmen have the luck to 
bag a Kudu. 

About Albwa, one of the gulches shows in the wash 
great quantities of garnets of the sort always found in con- 
junction with the Kimberley blue clay diamond formation, 
but we found none of them "in place." 



THE last day of the old year 1908 we did a hard march 
of sixteen miles, the first two-thirds over the roll- 
ing, billowy, short-grassed Mau Plateau, through 
almost solid herds of game as ignorant of man, his weapons, 
and his guile as were the first of their species, game that 
at first fled madly at sight of us, and then often trotted 
back, out of sheer curiosity, to near approach. The sight 
carried me back to our own plains of the early 'yo's, for 
in form, in color, and in action, though not in size or in 
pelt, the Wildebeeste at a few hundred yards so closely 
resembles the American bison, that any old-timer might 
easily fancy himself transported back by some happy 
miracle to the days of his youth and the old buffalo 
range that now remain no more than a memory to the 
few still living who once knew them. 

During the morning I shot a particularly fine buck, 
which Judd and Outram agreed was not a true Grand. 
Unless a Robertsi, it was a hitherto unrecorded species. 
Smaller of body bulk than the common Granti, its horns 
had much greater spread and an entirely different curv- 
ature. They measured 235 inches in height on the outer 
curve and 19 inches spread, tip to tip. Clearly the buck 
was no individual freak, for we saw so many like him 
that it was perfectly plain he is the characteristic type 
of southern Mau Granti. 

The last third of this day's march was a descent of 



a thousand feet through a maze of dry gulches and dense 
thorn scrub that tore everything tearable to tatters, and 
added a few more gashes to arms and hands that already 
looked and felt as if they had done active service in a 
leopard fight. 

This night for the first time our hitherto unfaltering 
guide failed to find readily the water-holes for which he 
was steering. In fact, for half the afternoon our little 
column was lost in three separate sections, each from the 
others, and Outram lost to all of us; and it was not until 
sunset that, by shooting, yelling, and smoke signalling, 
Judd and I got the lot once more together, just as Outram 
stumbled out of the thorns, rent and bleeding by his two 
hours' prowl through the gulches, with the good news 
that he had water. 

And right where he got the water most others would 
have sat and died of thirst. But a scant inch of slightly 
damp clay at the foot of a high overhanging bank, a scant 
dozen stalks of coarse marsh grass that looked as if it 
would sell its birthright for a bit of real marsh, cuddling 
close to the damp clay in the bottom of a sandy, stony 
gulch, dry as a bone, had been enough to catch the eye of 
this veteran of the West Australian desert. And after an 
hour's digging with shovels and crowbars, we got a hole 
in the sand that we found we could rely on to fill about once 
an hour, and that full held about two buckets of good 
water! Little enough for fifty men and thirty beasts, 
but still enough. 

And there that night, walled in by the close-crowding 
thorn that left scant room for our camp, with less of water 
within a day's march of us than the champagne gilded 
youth and guilty age pour out of a New Year's Eve at 


Rector's, my tired mates and porters turned in. With no 
sound in my ears but the sough of the night breeze 
through the ghastly gray branches of the thorn scrub, the 
yelps of jackals, the howls of marauding hyenas, and the dis- 
tant grunts of two prowling lion, I sat alone and saw the 
Old Year out and the New Year in, lost in sequent visions, 
forming in the bright embers of my camp fire and disap- 
pearing in their ashes, of many a merrier New Year's Eve 
with dearly loved hands in reach and dearly loved lips 
toasting me the best, visions of such nights at home, at 
Sherry's and Delmonico's, at old Martin's and new, - 
visions so clear and real that presently the sweet measures 
of the Monte Cristo Waltz were delighting my ears, 
voices babbling, glasses tinkling, laughter ringing and 
then, suddenly rousing to a realization of a fire turned all 
ghostly gray as the shrouding walls of thorn and a night 
as chill, if not as white, as many a New Year's Eve at 
home, I rolled up in my blankets. 

New Year's Day brought us out of the arid jungles 
and into a beautiful park-like country, abounding in 
clear, cold springs and streams. Just above Kibaibai 
Spring, where we made our night camp, four years before 
Outram and Leverson Gower had seen ten maneless 
(bush) lions wrangling like a lot of dogs over a zebra 
kill, and shot two of them from a near-by ambush. 

Hereabouts rhino sign was thick, and about five 
o'clock I hid myself in a rhino's bed, beneath low-droop- 
ing boughs of a bush that completely shut it in, and 
immediately beside a deep rhino path, full of fresh sign, 
about a mile from camp, and there stayed till dark. 
While no rhino came, it was an amusing evening. 
Tommys, tiny oribi, and graceful impala entered and 


leisurely grazed or played across the glade, all about me, 
often within fifty feet. Could I have stirred to make 
adequate opening in my shelter, I should have gotten 
some capital photographs, but the crackle of a twig would 
have sent them off helter-skelter, and so I sat tight, 
until, at sundown, all wandered off into the bush toward 
the hills. 

And then, just as I was about to leave, with great 
clatter, chatter, and barking, and a noise of crashing 
boughs like rhino smashing through bush, out trooped a 
big tribe of great man apes, old and young, close to a 
hundred of them, the biggest above four feet high, pap- 
pooses holding to the scruff of their mothers' necks and 
riding, comfortably on their backs, and fierce - faced, 
long-fanged old men in the lead and out on the flanks. 
For half an hour they pranced all around me there, 
youngsters scuffling and capering, elders digging roots or 
breaking great boughs and tearing bark, apparently 
taking in the dessert of the evening meal, for just as the 
brief twilight was fading into night, and when I was 
beginning to think I would have to shoot my way out to 
get back to camp, off they ambled into the bush. 

We nooned the second of January on the cascades of 
the Lenderut River, which some day will be visited as a 
remarkable bit of African scenery. While then no more 
than a clear, cold, swift-flowing, loud-rippling brook, in 
the "big rains" the Lenderut is a roaring torrent. Just 
at our camp the river has cut its way through a great 
dyke of close-grained gray crystalline granite, with a drop 
of probably eighty feet in the half-mile, and, through some 
freak of the combined chemistry of rock and water or 
some wizard work of physics, along its bottom and its 


sides up to high-water level were carved out in the hard 
rock immense round tanks, some twenty feet deep and 
big enough for a swimming bath. Indeed, one sees here 
every sort of vessel represented, narrow-mouth vases, 
tiny cups, and shallow saucers, all smooth and highly 
polished of interior and lip as porcelain and all brimful of 
sweet water, come of the recent rains. From a great pool 
at the foot of the cascade Outram caught some fine 
eight-pound kumbari, while I caught him and a bit of the 
gorge with my camera, the first time this world-old 
cascade has come under snapshot fire. 

That night's camp was the most beautiful of any on 
this safari, beside an ice-cold brook, a tributary of the 
Lenderut thickly lined with wild date palms and wild 
figs, about a mile below its source in a dozen great springs 
which covered nearly a square mile in area. 

And that same square mile gave me about the un- 
canniest and toughest two hours I ever had. Rhino and 
buffalo tracks were thick about, and at five o'clock I took 
Awala and a porter, crossed the brook, and strolled up 
toward the springs on the chance of a shot. On the way 
up we slipped past several herds of impala and other 
buck, but it was not until we were near what I supposed 
to be the source of the brook that anything happened. 
There was a great crash and smash within the bush a 
few yards on our right that sounded more like buffalo 
than rhino. I waited a few minutes, on the chance they 
would come out, and then crept down into the edge of the 
thicket opposite the point at which we last heard them. 
Peering within, the bush looked fairly open, thick- 
crowding giant ficus trees and palms, but not much under- 
growth or vines. Directly beneath, the bank pitched 


steeply down to what I then supposed was the single 
source of the brook, and down it we softly slid and about 
through the palms we tiptoed, eyes keenly watching for a 
sight of the bush-smashers. But while the ground was 
hard trampled all about, rough tree trunks often worn 
smooth by the rubbing of giant bodies, nothing did we 
see but baboons. 

Presently, when the declining sun warned us it was 
time to get out, I told Awala to lead out straight across 
the bush for camp, for our course had bent from east 
sharply north, and apparently the short-cut would save us 
a mile or more. 

On he led. As we advanced, the game paths became 
fainter, and finally stopped altogether, bang up against 
a solid wall of vines and bush, solid looking and as dense 
a mass in fact as an ivy-clad wall. But through it, 
scarce thirty yards away it seemed, was the bright light 
of the open country. So through the vine wall we began 
cutting our way with our knives, clambering over and 
through them, up an ascent and down a declivity, only 
to find ourselves literally swinging on a network of vines 
fifteen feet above another brook. 

The air was stifling; the labor exhausting; we were 
drenched with sweat. But just beyond us lay another 
patch of daylight that lured us ahe^d, and so other 
gleams of light lured us on over more rises and drops, 
each drop with a new spring brook at the bottom, whose 
presence we realized only by the murmur, except once 
when Awala slipped off his vine perch into one of them, 
taking a good ten-foot drop and a climb back up a vine, 
a vine twisted and looking precisely like a half-inch 
manila rope. 


Oh, for the prehensile tail of one of the baboons 
playing about among the branches above us and grima- 
cing their amusement over the wretched stagger we were 
making at their pet sort of semi-aerial travel, or for the 
wings of the great vultures and marabout storks perched 
in scores aloft on the highest trees, grimly weighing their 
chances of fat picking against our chance of escape ! 

While still twilight without, black night was now 
fallen within the jungle, and further progress ahead had 
become impossible. 

No alternatives remained except to pass the night 
on any part of the wide vine hammock we liked to stop 
on, or to attempt to feel our way back along the route we 
had come, which was not amusing, for we knew there 
were several points where a slip through the vine floor 
might mean a broken leg, or worse. 

To be sure we were in a measure safe enough on the 
vines, for nothing short of a leopard could get to us, and 
I much doubt if even he could, but wringing wet as we 
were, to stop there without a dry change of clothing or 
cover meant fever or pneumonia. 

So there was nothing for it but to try to back-track 
ourselves, and back we turned. Sometimes, through 
small openings in the leafy canopy above us, the young 
moon helped us a bit, but most of the way it was feel 
every step of advance with hands and feet. Heads 
bumped limbs of trees, and leaves and twigs were so 
constantly jabbing us in the face that, to save our eyes, 
we crept ahead with closed lids, until finally we reached 
the open game paths and were lucky enough to win out 
into the open glades west of the main brook. 

It was near nine o'clock when we reached camp, 


where Judd and Outram had been signalling us with 
shots and yells we plainly heard but had not answered, 
no use, for they could no more have gotten to us than we 
to them. 

The afternoon and night of the third we spent in the 
lovely park-like country at the foot of Kibololet. Here 
I shot my first topi bull, a beautiful member of the 
family of larger antelope, unknown anywhere between 
Mombasa and Uganda, but down there abundant, a 
bright yellow of shank, a dark glossy brown of thigh, 
with a shade of chestnut roan on back and ribs that 
in certain lights glistens like highly burnished bronze. 

While stealing close within the shadow of some bush 
for the shot at this chap, out slowly into the glade in 
front of me, two hundred yards away, came a great bull 
giraffe, and then directly along behind him trooped 
eight of his mates. Their lofty heads and necks much 
the color of the surrounding bush, above which they 
towered before entering the open, the impression of their 
approach was quite as startling as if one were to see the 
Singer, St. Paul, and Manhattan Life Buildings strolling, 
Indian file, up Fifth Avenue. And when, after watching 
them for perhaps twenty minutes browsing off the bush 
tops, I bowled over the topi, all looked up in surprise 
at the crack of the rifle, but not one moved until I entered 
the open, and then they lurched away, at about as 
graceful a pace as one might expect of the Singer Building 
out on stilts. 

The fourth, the last day of our march to the Mara 
River, was to see my first serious disappointment and 
defeat, in fact two of them. We were then entering a 
section where specially fine specimens of water buck are 


found, with horns nearly a fourth longer and wider of 
spread than in most other parts. Before nine o'clock I 
sighted the biggest water-buck head I had ever seen, 
stalked him, and gave him a .405 in the shoulder that 
dropped him in his tracks, but within a half-minute he 
was up and off. For two hours I trailed him before 
finally losing him in the bush, sighting him twice, but 
both times out of range. This was annoying, but I 
knew there were plenty more like him and I should have 
other chances. 

But a far greater shock was in store. Next to the 
sable, the roan antelope is far and away the most beau- 
tiful and rare of his tribe, and few sportsmen in these 
days get a chance at one, except by making a special 
trip to some remote region where they are still found. 
Outram had never seen or heard of roan thereabouts, 
north and east of the Mara, but had promised me a sight 
of them by a three days' trek west of the Mara to the crest 
of the Isuria Escarpment. 

And yet about noon, while Judd and I were well 
ahead of the safari and within three miles of the river, 
strolling along a thin fringe of bush eight hundred yards 
below us was a great buck, strange to me but quickly 
identified by Judd as a splendid roan. He was all alone, 
no other game near, and had not seen us, so noting 
his course angled toward us, down we dropped, flat in 
the grass, and waited. On he came until within five 
hundred yards. Then fortune again favored me, a 
fly bit him, or perhaps a snake gave him a scare, for, 
suddenly, he swerved from his course straight toward us, 
and bounded another one hundred yards nearer, before 
again settling down to graze. Apparently he was a 


certain gift. Presently, and when within an easy three 
hundred yards, he again shifted his course and my best 
chance was come, for thereafter he would be drawing 
away. My shot knocked him flat, and Judd yelled, 
"Got him! Got him! You've got your roan!" But in 
an instant he was up again, and we saw that, firing at 
him quartering as he turned, I had only broken his left 
hip. Before he was fairly on his legs I gave him a second, 
this time fair in the left shoulder, and down he dropped, 
limp as an empty sack, and lay still. Then we shook 
hands and I slung my gun strap over my shoulder and 
we walked toward him when, wonder of wonders, 
up again he sprang, and before I could again cover him 
he was out of sight behind the fringe of bush. For five 
hours we trailed him through glade and bush with a 
dozen of our best boys, but to no purpose. Twice we 
sighted him at long range and twice I missed him, flurried 
and short-winded with the chase. 

I was heartbroken, for no such chance for a fine roan 
was likely ever to come to me again. The next day I 
had twenty boys out from dawn to dark searching for 
him, under promise of a tempting reward, but all to no 
purpose. And then I was sorry indeed any of my shots 
had reached and torn his beautiful roan sides! 

The fact is, the vitality of these African antelope 
is past belief; their thick hides are such tough shields 
that only a heart, spine, or head shot drops them to stay. 
The very next day I knocked two water buck and one 
topi flat as flounders at two hundred and seventy-five 
yards with three successive shots. There they lay mo- 
tionless while the herd of mixed game scampered away, 
so lay for at least five minutes until my calls for the 


boys to come and get the meat roused both water buck, 
and off they bounded. And, come to the topi, I even 
found the great .405 ball that had passed through his 
heart had stopped well within the skin of the opposite 
side, a shot that would have passed clean through 
an elk. 

Outram's little fifteen-pound cross between an Irish 
and a bull terrier, Pugge, caught up with one of the buck 
and detained him, but not for long. Pugge's tactics are 
always practical, if not scientific; disdaining fence for a 
throat grip, she always goes for the first mouthful she 
can get, usually fetching up with a leap that fastens her 
teeth so near an actual tail hold that she hangs well above 
and clear of reach of the sharp hind hoofs; and so often 
have I seen her dangle and swing for five to ten minutes 
till the buck went down. But this old water buck was 
too strong and artful for her, and after tossing her about 
for a few minutes, vainly trying to reach her with hoofs 
and horns, he sidestepped and swung her a smash against 
a thorn tree that put her out of the day's running. 

Then the cunning old buck entered a belt of heavy 
jungle two or three miles in length and a half-mile broad, 
impassable to man except on buffalo paths, and along 
these for two and a half hours Outram and I tracked him, 
ourselves bent double or on hands and knees, beneath 
boughs and vines, the buck by turns leaping water- 
holes, entering the brook, and tramping up or down it, 
doubling on his own tracks, passing out to the open as 
if to cross a glade, and then slipping back into the jungle 
a few yards away, all shrewd tactics to throw us off his 
track, so shrewd they deserved to win, as at last they did. 

But the old bravo's escape was not for long. The 


very next morning about eight o'clock I shot a rather 
good topi bull, with seventeen-inch horns, cunning as a 
serpent, that after an hour's painstaking stalk compelled 
me to shoot at four hundred and fifty yards, a head-on shot 
that luckily caught him in the centre of the forehead. 

While the boys were removing the head and skin I 
took a circle for bush buck, and within five hundred 
yards of where we had lost my wounded water buck the 
day before, found his head, spine, and a few ribs, the 
carcass eaten the night before by lion, and quarters and 
shoulders later toted off by hyena. His identity was past 
question, for one of the ribs showed fracture by the bullet 
that passed through his lungs. And he was a good one 
too, horns 27 inches high and 19 inches in spread, the 
tip of one horn splintered, whether in some battle for 
mastery of his herd or in his last night's finish fight with 
lion, I could only guess. 

While taking this buck's head, I heard a shot a half- 
mile away from Judd's .450. Returned to camp at noon, 
I learned he had sighted a lioness at two hundred and 
fifty yards in the edge of the bush, perhaps the one that 
had retrieved my buck, and had wounded her, but had 
felt it imprudent to follow her into the dense bush she 
was in until, if badly hit, she had stiffened of her wound. 

At 4 P. M. he and I went out with our gun bearers on 
a prowl for her, he with a .450, I with a twelve-bore and 
buckshot, the bearers with spare rifles. We easily found 
where she had passed on into the jungle and for half an 
hour were able to follow her spoor along buffalo paths. 
But not a drop of blood could we find. Then we lost 
all sign and had to give her up. Nor was I, personally, 
deeply grieved. In the semi-twilight of the bush, never 


able to see more than thirty feet in any direction, half 
the time with ducking heads (to avoid entanglement with 
vines and thorns) that prevented all outlook ahead or 
about, the situation impressed one as unconducive to 

Returned to camp at dark, another bit of luck devel- 
oped, Outram had just come in with the head of the 
second of the two water buck I shot the day before. 
While no better than twenty-one inches in height and 
sixteen inches in spread, the horns were much more grace- 
ful than the head of No. i. Curiously, Outram had 
found the head and close-picked spine within a quarter 
of a mile of where No. i had been found so, obviously, 
two lion had dined well at my expense the night before, 
to say nothing of the hyenas that wait, snarling, for the 
lion's leavings, the jackals that wait upon the hyenas, 
and the vultures and marabout storks that permit the 
jackals scant time for more than a hasty nibble. 


TWENTY-THREE full days en route from Nairobi 
to the Mara River, our first week's permanent camp 
there was a constant delight. 

The camp was pitched on a high bluff, forty feet above 
its margin, beneath the dense shade of its heavily timbered 
banks, just at the foot of rippling rapids that sang us to 
sleep at night and greeted us with good cheer at our 
dawn awakening. 

Down to this point the Mara is a hastening, hustling 
mountain torrent of the sort that gives one the impression 
of pounding along at its best pace for fear another may 
steal its logical tributaries; but here, become swollen and 
opulent of its thrift and push, like Dooley's "Magnate" 
preparing to "sell out the trust to the trustful," the Mara 
steadies to a lounging, indifferent gait for a dignified 
tender of its golden flood to Victoria Nyanza and Nile- 
side commerce. 

About us in early morning and late evening the taller 
trees were alive with monkeys, monkeys blue, gray, 
black and white, tawny, monkeys tiny as kittens and big 
as men, the long-haired and the short-furred, the younger 
apparently out as investigation committees on our intru- 
sion, swinging by their tails as low as they dared in wide- 
eyed, wrinkle-browed study of our doings, the elders 
usually grouped aloft in solemn conclave, receiving and 
debating the reports of their committees. Obviously we 



brought them a lot of shocks, the greatest, the discharge 
of a gun in or near camp, which sent them barking to 
cover for hours. But, oddly, our next greatest startler 
to them was my daylight cold sponge-bath, which always 
set their teeth clicking and voices madly chattering, 
whether of sympathetic chills at thought of a cold dip so 
early, or of superstitious fear of what must have looked 
in the early dawn like a ghost-white figure disporting itself 
in the water beneath them, we could only conjecture. 

It is a country of wondrous strange contradictions, is 
Africa. Near the end of the little rains, everywhere about 
us in the open glades were the loveliest green meadow 
lands, brilliant with flowers still, but the wild timothy 
tops browning a bit, the home farmer's hint to oil and 
sharpen his mower, and the cricket's chirp and the 
droning chorus of abounding insect life helped to fix the 
season as a waning home June. And yet cast the eyes 
aloft to the broad belt of deciduous forest lining the river 
and they there lingered lovingly on every brilliant hue with 
which the early frosts of Autumn paint all northern tree life 
except the pines and firs, while the ground beneath the 
canvas veranda of my tent boasted a carpet of fallen leaves 
bright tinted and variegated as any come of a Persian 

Thus on the Mara does thrifty Autumn hustle Summer 
aside and get the first cuddle in the soft lap of Spring. 

Days never to be forgotten were those first seven on 
the Mara. Up at 4 A. M. for a cold dip and light break- 
fast ; off as soon as you can see your rifle sights ; at five, a 
faint flush in the east, the usually tipsy-standing Southern 
Cross then properly perpendicular in the southern sky, 
while the two "pointers" of the Dipper are straight down, 


indexing the position of the dear old Polar Star we there 
never saw, both Dipper and Cross low down on the hori- 
zon, almost nestled in the treetops; a well-oiled rifle in 
your hand; your Somali spare gun bearer trailing behind, 
and, far behind him, four shenzi porters to carry your 
day's bag, and your syce and mule ; off through dripping 
dew-bejewelled grass that under the sun's first rays glitters 
like a sleet-clad northern landscape, slowly slipping along 
the edge of thickets, thumb on hammer, ringer in trigger 
guard, every sense tense for whatever the next turn of the 
bush may bring you in arm's length of lion, rhino, 
buffalo, or any sort of buck; always working carefully up 
wind, trying to tread lightly as a cat; out into an animal 
kingdom virgin of man and his wiles as Adam found the 
denizens of Eden ; out and up, ever rising toward some ridge 
crest, shapes tiny and of vast bulk springing ghost-like out 
of the half light, creeping, halting, peering for some trophy 
that may win you admission to the Valhalla of Rowland 
Ward's record trophy elect; stealing in wide detours past 
the undesirable, to avoid startling them, for set a single 
beast agog and off presently thunders everything on four 
legs within a thousand yards of you, notice to the teeming 
herds near and far that some peril is at hand. 

So on and on you go, carefully scanning each new group 
with your glasses, until presently aloft towers a pair of 
horns of majestic spread that marks a monarch worthy 
of best craft, then up for safe range you steal, crouching 
from bush to tree and tree to rock, crawling belly tight 
to mother earth through sheltering grass if all other cover 
lacks, until presently, mind and muscle atuned to perfect 
concert, your cheek cuddles close to your rifle stock and 
down goes your quarry of a well-placed shot. Out at 


once comes the tape and quickly settles your fate. Then 
on and on you go throughout the livelong day, for a new 
victory or at least a try for one. 

While fine specimens of buck of all sorts fell to our 
guns, not a single one of the big fellows did either of us 
see, with the single exception of the lioness sighted by 
Judd. And yet the grunts of lion were heard about our 
camp every night. We dropped kills for them at evening, 
but upon crawling up, behind anthill or bush, for a sight 
of them at dawn, never found anything but the skeleton 
wreck of Leo's repast ; we found their fresh spoor, often not 
an hour old, entering jungle paths, but try to follow them 
as we might, stooping, clambering, on hands and knees 
among the vines and thorns, we always failed to sight 

Buffalo sign was thick about, often of mornings in the 
wet grass so fresh it was almost unexplainable why we 
had not seen them, and always we found the bush a net- 
work of their paths. 

All up and down the river hippo paths worn from 
three to eight feet deep alternated with crocodile slides, 
and yet, bar one eighteen-foot crocodile shot by Outram, 
no hippo or crocodile did we see. 

Even though these big fellows are all-night prowlers 
and feeders, lying up in concealment usually by day, 
out early of mornings and late of nights as we were, pok- 
ing into their retreats as, none too wisely, we often did, 
it was miraculous how we managed to miss sighting them, 
but so miss them we did. 

When Outram was last on the Mara it was impassable, 
booming bank full, but now its waters were fallen to such 


an extent that we were able to ford the island rapid along- 
side our camp, and by a day's work of the wapagazi 
digging cuttings in the perpendicular west bank and 
hacking bush, to get our saddle mules across. The 
result well repaid us, for all sorts of game were even more 
abundant there than north of the river. Working into 
the hills to the west, we were out no more than three miles 
before we caught a glimpse of a herd of Masai cattle 
in the glades below a belt of heavy forest high up on our 
right. Riding toward them, in half an hour we sighted 
the Masai village and approached. 

It was the usual Masai munyata, a tall and thick 
zareba of thorn, probably three hundred feet in diameter, 
the long, low, round-topped thatch-and-wattle huts, 
thickly plastered, top and sides, with cow dung that, dried, 
makes them cool by day and tight and warm by night, 
ranged in a solid circle around the inner wall of the 
zareba. And every night within this circle of huts their 
flocks of fat-tailed, piebald sheep and their herds of 
sleek, square-built, hump-necked cattle are penned, and 
the one gate of the zareba tightly closed and guarded 
throughout the night against predatory neighbors. 

Nor with the gate rushed and the centre of the village 
occupied are the Masai at the mercy of a native enemy. 
Each hut is a tiny castle, of effective protection against 
arrow and spear. The single doorway of each hut, in- 
stead of opening at right angles to the inner wall, opens 
laterally with it for six or eight feet, when a sharp turn 
opens to the interior. These entrances are so low and 
narrow that only one person at a time may enter, 
crouched almost to hands and knees thus, if an enemy, 


offering a hopelessly exposed neck to the short shrift of 
the Masai short sword, while tiny arrow loopholes com- 
mand all approaches. 

These Masai were once the most powerful race of the 
eastern plateau, notwithstanding they were far fewer nu- 
merically than the Wakikuyu or the Wakamba. Slen- 
der, graceful, sinewy men, a light chocolate in color, with 
regular features, often with thin, straight noses and little 
of the pendulous negroid lip, probably the offspring of 
some great ancient Galla raid and trek that lodged itself 
among its vanquished, the Masai are the gentlemen par 
excellence of the British East African plateau. Hire to 
white men as tenders of flocks they sometimes do, but no 
menial task, no other form of labor will they perform. 
They plant no crops and in diet subsist entirely upon their 
flocks and herds, now that game-killing by natives is 
forbidden and in a measure stopped. Their chief diet is 
mixed milk and blood, the latter drawn from the necks 
of their butter-fat bullocks. 

Our approach created a sensation. Lads herding 
sheep and women fetching water from a near-by spring 
flitted away through the bush like shadows, and we were 
halted some time a hundred yards from the gate before a 
group of elder men and young warriors came out, alert, 
suspicious, nervously clutching their spears. Presently, 
however, they recalled Outram from old Boundary Survey 
days of five years before, and, assured we were not Ger- 
mans, of whom they hold a guilty fear, due to their 
notoriously frequent raids on natives and settlers in Ger- 
man territory, their suspicion was allayed. Excepting 
the members of the Survey Commission and one lone 


professional elephant hunter, no white men had ever 
before been among them, they told us. 

As none of the men with us spoke Masai, we had to 
send back to camp for an interpreter. Upon his arrival 
we learned the sultani (chief) of this munyata was young 
Koydelot, a handsome lad of no more than twenty-two, 
son of the head witch doctor of a half-dozen neighboring 
munyatas. Shortly thereafter the elder came with a 
half-dozen of his headmen, himself habited in a handsome 
gray monkey-skin cloak, looped over the left shoulder and 
covering him to the thighs. Gravely seated behind his 
straight-planted war spear upon a little round six-inch-high 
stool, carved from a single piece of hardwood, surrounded 
by the skin-clad group of his bow and spear men, Koydelot 
was not without a certain crude dignity, which he succeeded 
in maintaining until one of the party plucked a short blade 
of grass, rolled it into a pellet, pressed it apparently into 
the toe of his boot, exhibited empty hands, made upward 
passes over legs and body, and then plucked it from 
his mouth. Koydelot rolled off his stool with wonder and 
shied away. Indeed, shortly thereafter the beginnings of 
a good entente between us were almost hopelessly ruined 
when another of the party exhibited to the Masai a lovely 
full set of teeth, and then, after a seemingly violent 
wrench at the lower teeth, showed an empty under jaw! 
Off into the bush some scurried and away from us all 
withdrew in wide-eyed, gaping wonder and dread of 
creatures with such uncanny attributes. Nor did we 
make much further progress with them till a third got out 
a press-the-spring-and-it-flies-shut tape measure. At 
first most of them, the women especially, seemed to take 


it as a pocket edition of some sort of snake, but once 
we convinced them it had no fangs, each had to have 
his or her play with it for the next half-hour. 

This meeting with the Masai solved for us what had 
been a serious problem. All the time Judd could spare 
was expired, and he was then planning an attempt for a 
short-cut to some station of the Uganda Railway, one 
hundred and thirty to one hundred and sixty miles north 
of us. But to the north and northwest intervened the 
Isuria and Lumbwa ranges, gashed with deep watersheds 
and clothed with belts of dense forest, while to the north- 
east lay the mighty uplift of the Mau and unknown dry 
stretches of alternating lava and jungle of the Kidong 
Valley. Without a path or guide, either way was sure to 
be desperately hard and slow going. Four days before 
we had sent three of our wapagazi into the northwest, 
hunting for some Masai munyata, and since they were 
only rationed for three days we had begun to fear the Wan- 
derobo had picked them up. Thus it was a great relief 
when we found Koydelot could give us two of his elmorani 
(warriors) who knew a practicable route to the Lumbwa 
tribe, whence guides could be gotten to Lumbwa station 
on the Uganda Railway. 

When we reached camp late that afternoon, after a 
fine day's sport that yielded us several good trophies, we 
found Koydelot and his court awaiting us with a fine 
fat-tail sheep, the usual native "backsheesh," which 
we reciprocated to the full of its value in beads and 
"Americani" (unbleached cotton cloth). 

A lot of our beads, however, we found unacceptable, 
even some of the most brilliant-hued of the lot : they were 
not in style! It is an absolute fact that in no set of the 


haute monde the world over is fashion more fickle and 
transient than among the African savages. Traders of 
no small means have been ruined, trekking into the in- 
terior hundreds of miles with wares that proved unsalable 
at any price. In the few months of their absence the fancy 
of the ebony beauties had shifted red or white beads 
were demanded by those who, previously, would look 
at none but blue beads, iron wire preferred to copper or 
brass, popular prints of cotton discarded. 

Indeed, no manufacturers have a busier, harder study 
for attractive new patterns than the English and German 
printers of cheap cottons for the African trade. But it is 
a satisfaction to find that in plain, unbleached cotton 
goods no English or European cotton spinners have been 
able to compete with our New England mills, whose goods 
have held first esteem throughout Central Africa since 
first introduced, through Zanzibar, way back in the '6o's, 
and still fetch better prices than the best European 

At dawn on January n, Judd pulled out north with 
Masai guides, hoping to reach Lumbwa in six or eight 
days. With him I sent back twenty-three of our porters, 
reducing our safari to a total of thirty, including Outram 
and myself. Sorry indeed were we to part with Will 
Judd, as rollicking, jolly, and able a mate as man ever 

The day after Judd's departure we were delighted 
to be assured by one of Koydelot's sons that he could 
guide us to elephant, three days' march north of west of 
our camp, within the great basin lying between the 
Sotik and Kisii country and to the south of the Kisii high- 
lands, delighted because we had been under the impression 


there were no elephant within much less than a fort- 
night's march of our Mara camp. Nor had we realized 
the Kavirondo were so near, a most important fact to 
us then, as our supply of posho (native grain food 
beans, corn, or millet) was nearing total exhaustion, and 
the Kavirondo grew abundant crops of metama (Egyptian 

With a lot of mixed porters, exhaustion of posho is 
always a most serious thing, no matter how abundant 
game meat may be. If he can get meat, your Wakamba 
asks nothing else. Your Wakikuyu will touch no kind 
of meat, even to a point of impending starvation; indeed 
when we had already cut the others to half rations of 
posho a full ration being one and one-half pounds per 
day per man and were giving them all the meat they 
could eat, our Wakikuyu pathetically pleaded that their 
fathers had never eaten meat and that they could not, 
and full posho they had to have. So it was every last 
one of these aboriginal vegetarians that we rushed back 
to the railway with Judd. Your Mohammedan Swahili 
will eat no meat not properly halaled by one of their own 
faith, the throat cut, and the carcass properly bled before 
death. Your Somali will touch no form of food but rice 
and halaled meat. Thus, while none of our porters would 
dare desert from the Mara camp for fear of being bagged 
by Wanderobo, we confronted plenty of trouble when the 
posho gave out. 

So we lost no time. At dawn the next morning we 
were en route in light marching order, leaving Regal in 
charge of our base camp, all donkeys, and the spare 
mules. Our course was almost due north, through rolling 
hills and broad plains sloping up from the main west 



o o 
> r* 

Z <! 


w o 



fork of the Mara to the foot of the Isuria Escarpment, a 
vast black wall, inaccessible at most points, that stretched 
out of our ken into the horizon to northeast and southwest. 

Five miles out we reached the munyata of Koydelot, 
senior, who welcomed us with gifts of great gourds of 
milk, which we received but promptly turned over to the 
porters at our noon camp, as the Masai practice of cleans- 
ing their dairy vessels leaves Masai milk impossible, 
save when one sees it milked direct into one of his own 
vessels, when it is found sweet and rich as the milk of 
the best Jersey cow. 

Out of the village we were followed by fifteen or twenty 
of Koydelot's young elmorani, keen I should shoot them 
some buck, whose skins they prize as cloaks, the back 
sinews furnishing their best bow strings. In the next 
three miles I bowled over several, to the great delight 
of the young warriors. 

Before we parted with this fine lot of young fellows, 
I got some excellent pictures, the only ones I have ever 
seen, of a group of Masai bowmen. The youngster in 
front of the group is Akuna, our guide, a son of Koy- 
delot, pock-marked, but lithe and graceful as a panther, 
who on trail or elephant spoor for twenty days glided 
ahead of me silent as a shadow, wise in every form of 
jungle lore, but in all else simple as a little child, pleased 
with the skin and sinews of a fresh kill as any woman 
with a new Worth dress, and going into ecstasies over an 
empty cigarette tin. On spoor fierce-eyed, intent, tire- 
less, relentless as a leopard, his light cloak wrapped tightly 
in a narrow roll about his waist, his knob-kerrie and short 
sword stuck in his girdle, his bow held perpendicularly 
to protect the bow string from the wet grass, the leather 


quiver at his back carrying his firesticks and heavy 
poison-tipped war arrows, Akuna's sinewy figure was a 
model of an aboriginal militant worthy of the best sculptor. 

Shortly before our noon camp we passed yet another 
munyata, the last below the escarpment, and throughout 
our nooning its parti-colored flocks and herds, grazing 
hither and yon about us, appearing and disappearing 
among the trees, were ever producing effects like a gigan- 
tic animated kaleidoscope. 

During the afternoon I bagged a fine pair of twenty- 
seven-inch impala horns and a twenty-two-inch "Tommy." 

The ascent of the escarpment late in the afternoon, 
while no more than 1,300 feet, was so much like scram- 
bling up a bowlder-studded, thorn-clad Gothic roof that 
it pumped all the wind out of even the hardy Outram and 
took the last ounce of go out of the loaded porters. 

The summit of Isuria we found a lovely rolling coun- 
try, with wide areas of tender, sweet grass, shoulder- 
high, and thick mats of heavy timber, where herds of 
beautiful topi often stood within a hundred yards, watch- 
ing us in wide-eyed surprise. 

Our tents were up none too soon that evening, for 
directly we were sheltered a heavy thunderstorm broke. 
And scarcely had the last hoarse rumbles of the storm 
died on our ears, about midnight, than they were followed 
by the deep bass grunts of a lion prowling near in fact, 
so very near that all the porters, who were sleeping by 
fires well sheltered in the dense bush, came hurrying into 
the centre of the camp and there spent the night, within 
the narrowest circle of fires we had to build at any time 
on that safari. All about us old Leo circled, so circled 
all night long, keen of hunger or wonder, one or the other. 


Often one could hear a twig break beneath his stealthy 
tread, but not once did he pass within the ring of our 
firelight. Toward dawn he gave us up as a bad prob- 
ably too fiery job and stalked grumblingly away. 

And, by the way, it was in a ravine of this escarpment 
that Outram had a particularly curious experience. Out 
after buck meat for the porters, beneath a slightly leaning 
thorn tree he saw writhing about the tall grass tops what 
he took to be the head and neck of a python, and fired at 
it. At the shot, a big leopard bounded, snarling, away 
into the bush. Advancing beneath the tree to see what 
the leopard had been crouched over, he was sur- 
prised to find nothing but a narrow area of trampled 
grass and much absolutely fresh blood, so sprinkled 
about that evidently it was not come of the wound he had 
given the leopard. Suddenly, while standing puzzling 
over what the leopard's kill could have been that might 
be made away with so completely, hide, meat, and bone, 
he became conscious of a steady drip! drip! drip! on his 
coat sleeve, and, upon lifting his arm, discovered a stream 
of blood running down it ! Glancing aloft, his puzzle was 
solved. There, in a high fork of the tree at least eighteen 
feet from the ground, were cleverly wedged, heads to 
tails, their legs even artfully intertwined to steady them, 
the carcasses of two freshly killed young topi antelope, 
weighing forty to fifty pounds each. Obviously the leo- 
pard, after a strenuous morning winning and safely stow- 
ing his day's repast, had been resting himself beneath 
the tree and lapping the dripping blood as an appetizer. 

About seven o'clock that morning, while riding a 
short distance ahead of the safari, I sighted four eland, 
two of them splendid bulls, magnificent great fellows that 


looked as big as beeves. With no means of stopping the 
noisy advancing porters without alarming the eland, I 
had to chance a three-hundred-yard shot at the biggest 
bull. He staggered, bounded into the air, and hit the 
ground going at a sharp trot, like that fast gait in the elk 
which few ponies can overtake until it is broken into a 
gallop, after his speeding mates. All were out of sight 
almost in an instant, with no chance for a second shot 
but a snap at the second bull that, unfortunately, hit him 
in the hind quarters and did not down him. Hurrying 
to the turn of bush where they had disappeared, I took 
up their trail, plain to follow as a wagon road for two miles 
through the dripping grass, great splashes of blood on 
the tall grass tops proving a high shoulder shot in the 
big bull and distinguishing his tracks from the others. 

Then the eland passed through a series of glades 
criss-crossed in every direction that morning by topi and 
other game that soon had my Somali shikari and myself 
puzzling, for already the blood sign from the congealing 
wound had lessened until we could no longer find it at 
all. At this juncture up came one of my Masai, Habia, 
from the safari. His spooring, then and thereafter for 
hours, was masterly, better than I have ever seen done by 
Indian or cowboy. 

Crouched and bent until he was carrying his nose close 
to ground almost as a hunting hound on cooling scent, at 
a short distance wholly hidden in the tall grass, he glided 
about the glade, amidst the network of trails, pausing 
seldom, for no more than five minutes before he signalled 
me to him, and plucked and showed me a blade of grass 
that showed a blood splotch scarcely bigger than a pin 
head. Then off down the spoor he started and along it 


held, up hill and down, through tall grass, winding through 
broad belts of jungle on game trails and off them, along 
the rocky bottoms of dry ravines, into and through or 
up or down water, never at fault for an instant except 
where the bull had taken water, at a pace that kept me 
blown almost to the point of collapse, for full four hours. 
Early it became evident that the bull had elected to play a 
lone hand in the game of losing us, and had cut away free of 
his mates. Often we heard him a few yards away through 
the bush, but only once again did I sight him, about noon, 
at the top of a long, steep ascent that apparently had 
overtaxed even his energies, where he stood with hanging 
head, his shoulder wound plainly showing. But before I 
could free myself of the mesh of bush we were leaving, off 
again he trotted and I had to content myself with a snap- 
shot that, hitting him in the hip, only served to hasten 
his pace. 

And right there I realized the chase for me was use- 
less. There was no more than another two or three 
miles' go left in me. Besides, while Habia and Awala 
could slip through the bush silent as ghosts, do my best 
I was now and then breaking dry twigs or stumbling on 
toe-entangling vines, and notwithstanding the two-hun- 
dred-and-six-pound handicap with which I had left 
Nairobi was then reduced to close to one hundred 
and eighty pounds. 

Obviously the only chance was to leave my eland to 
them, in the hope that Habia might stalk near enough to 
plant a finishing poisoned arrow which, freshly pre- 
pared, can be relied on to kill in twenty minutes, if it 
penetrates the flesh at all. So on I sent them and back 
toward the waiting safari wearily I tramped until I met 


my syce and mule, which Outram had thoughtfully sent 
after me, guided by Akuna. 

It was long after dark when my two trailers reached 
camp that night, empty-handed. Twice had they 
sighted the bull, but approach him they could not. It 
was a heavy disappointment, for in these days it is not so 
many chances a man has for such a superb eland. 

Early the next morning our path led us to the first 
munyata west of the escarpment. After a few words 
from Akuna, the Masai received us cordially and the 
women brought us great gourds of milk. 

Beneath a wide-spreading thorn tree just without the 
gate of the village, the chief and a dozen or more of the 
elders sat about the embers of a fire, working overtime, 
harder by far than usual, for all seemed to be busy at 
once lending advice in soft-toned Masai chorus to a youth 
of eighteen, who, by great effort, was contriving to make 
one knife-stroke about every five minutes on a stave of 
wood he was shaping for a bow. 

All were skin clad, in so far as they were clad at all, 
except the chief himself, who sported an antiquated red 
and yellow laprobe of a pattern I have observed to be 
popular among the Wakamba, from whom it was prob- 
ably traded or looted, and an extraordinary bracelet of 
claws and teeth, flint and obsidian, whether a charm or 
an insignia of rank I could only guess. Short and lean, 
bearded, with regular, sharp-cut features, a complexion 
so light (for even a Masai) that he was almost sallow, 
and great slumbering, speculative, introspective dark 
eyes that occasionally lit up with ominous fires, dignified, 
reserved, quiet, the chief bore a remarkable resemblance 
to Jay Gould! 





Halting at this village for a half-hour's rest of the 
porters, the youthful bowmaker and his advisory com- 
mittee of older bowmen prompted me to propose an 
archery prize competition. At first they failed to catch 
the idea, but when I stuck a silver rupee (about the 
diameter of a half-dollar piece) in the end of a split stick 
planted in the ground at twenty yards from a line I drew, 
and explained that each might, in turn, have a single 
shot until the rupee was fairly hit, the hitter to have it, 
all but the chief skurried within the munyata for their bows 
and quivers. 

And back presently they came on the run, every male 
armed, from seven-year-old toddlers to seventy-year-old 
doddlers, and we lined them up for turn shooting. 

One wrinkled and palsied old scrap of parchment, 
palsied in all but his greed, finding himself landed at the 
extreme foot of the line, promptly squatted with a great 
sheaf of close upon twenty arrow r s before him, and began 
a continuous but shockingly wild flight of them in the 
general direction of the target. And stop him we could 
not, short of actual physical violence. Nor did we long 
try, for it was only too apparent that the target was much 
safer from him than were we or his lined-up mates; for, 
seeming himself to realize that nothing but luck and quick 
work could win for him, he began trying to shoot so fast 
that at least a third of his arrows flew from his bow string 
at every angle from the true line of fire but a flat one, flew 
feebly, to be sure, but still hard enough to put an eye out. 

So, with no more notice of him by his competitors 
than a chorus of indulgent laughs, the match proceeded 
fairly, none of the others seeking unfair advantage. 

The average Masai bow is from five to six feet long, 


and it takes three fingers and a strong wrist and shoulder 
to draw the heavy, iron-tipped, thirty-inch war and big 
game arrows to the head. But for this contest they used 
the shorter blunt-headed arrows that serve them for 
bagging birds and rabbits. 

Quickly it became evident the prizes must fall to some 
lad or youth, for all the men shot badly, close, to be sure, 
but inches out of line or over or below the target. With 
their ancient best amusement and most profitable occupa- 
tion of predatory raids on their neighbors largely stopped 
for several years, and game-shooting forbidden by law 
and made dangerous for them, no incentive remains for 
the mature elmorani to keep in practice with the bow. 

One youngster no more than eight or ten years old 
proved a wonder: his first shot grazed the top of the first 
rupee, his second hit it fairly, his third shot barely missed 
the second by a hair, and his fourth sent it spinning, hit 
plumb centre. He was the son of the six-foot-six elmoran 
who stands at the front of the line in the photograph, to 
whom, in dancing, shouting glee, he brought and gave 
his shining trophies and then clung cuddling proudly to 
one giant paternal leg. 

And, after the rupees had been duly examined and 
admired by all present, none but Old Parchment showing 
any envy or heartache over his own failure, good sports- 
men and true all but him, the trophies were prudently 
handed over by the father to the boy's mother for safe- 
keeping, and on to the little victor's own youngsters they 
doubtless will one day be passed. 


WE descended to and crossed the Maggori River 
at an altitude of 4,750 feet, there a tumbling, 
broiling hill torrent thirty feet wide pouring down 
towards Victoria Nyanza out of the Lumbwa highlands, 
through broad belts of heavy timber. 

A few miles south of the Maggori, rising toward the 
divide between that stream and the Oyani River, the main 
southern tributary of the Kuja, our path, bending slightly 
north again, led us, true to Akuna's promise, into abun- 
dant elephant sign. In fact, from i p. M. to 5 p. M., when 
we reached the numerous munyatas of Toroni's Loita 
Masai, elephant spoor was crossing our path at right 
angles every few hundred yards, some only a few hours 
old. Great limbs growing twenty feet from the ground 
and torn down that very morning, at one point blocked 
our trail, while here and there in the long grass broad 
paths were tramped deep and smooth as if made by the 
marching hosts of all Tammany's most portly. Our 
food supply was so low we could not then afford to stop 
on any uncertainty; so, since our trail was bending north 
to a half-circle of a big basin toward which the elephant 
tracks headed, I detached Akuna and Habia with orders 
to try to locate them and to intercept us if they found 

That night we camped in a high hill basin about the 
slopes of which were scattered a half-dozen of Toroni's 

75 ' 


munyatas. We had made about sixty-five miles in our 
three days out from our Mara camp, heavy marching 
for loaded porters. 

Shortly after dark our trackers came in with word the 
elephant had moved down into the great long basin to 
the north and northeast of Toroni's. Hereabouts there 
was practically no small game and we were wholly out 
of posho, but having still enough fresh meat for the 
porters for one day, we decided to have our first try for 
elephant the next day. 

Off at 5 A. M., in twenty minutes we were sopping wet 
from the alternating belts of dripping grass and jungle that 
cover that country, jungle and heavy timber along the 
streams, grass upon the hillslopes. 

We started on our saddle mules, but soon had to dis- 
card them, notwithstanding they were as sure-footed as the 
best of their usually safe-going breed. In fact, mine never 
dumped me but once, and then was thoughtful enough to 
choose as the occasion a particularly hot day and as the 
place the middle of a cold stream, so I forgave him. 

But that basin, as, indeed, is practically all good 
elephant country now remaining, was impossible mounted. 
The shortest grass was a sort of wild timothy five to six 
feet high, its lower third a thick mat man or beast could 
scarcely kick his way through, and, what was far worse, 
the ground beneath on all hillslopes was thickly strewn 
with hidden bowlders, big and little, going afoot in which 
meant constant slipping and stumbling that acutely 
wrenched every muscle in you, while to attempt it mounted 
meant to court the certainty of a broken leg or arm. 

Then here we ran into our first true elephant grass, 
ten to fifteen feet high, that shuts one in like a wall and 


that one can scarcely wallow through at all except on 
elephant paths. 

But such paths we soon struck, all with more or less 
fresh sign, and picked and followed the freshest sign, 
sometimes going twenty minutes through grass where we 
could not see two yards in any direction, except straight 
into the zenith; sometimes along dusky jungle paths, 
where even the zenith view was shut out from us; some- 
times into tall forest, where wide areas were trampled 
bare of undergrowth and hard and smooth as a floor, vast, 
dim-lighted, sylvan assembly chambers of the great 
pachyderms; often across acres of flat marsh-land or 
spring-sodden hillside where advance was only possible 
by treading carefully between elephant footprints, a slip 
into any of which meant a plunge to one's waist or neck 
in cold water, for not even the pig loves mud more than 
the elephant. 

On and on for six hours we by turns slipped, plod- 
ded, wallowed, and crawled, lured and buoyed by the 
almost warm sign, and then, all in, pumped of wind and 
strength, had to give it up and strike for a short-cut to 
the Mara trail, which we reached half-way back to 
the Maggori. 

And when that night the two Masai whom we had 
sent on upon the spoor dropped, dead spent, by our camp 
fire, it was with disgust we learned that a scant hour 
after we left them they had sighted two big tuskers. 

That morning our porters had no breakfast, but an 
easy four hours' march brought us down to the villages f 
the Jalou Nilotic Kavirondo that thickly line the hill- 
slopes of the Oyani and the Kuja for miles, a superb race 
physically who dwell in easy plenty amid their numerous 


flocks and herds and broad russet-brown fields of ripen- 
ing Egyptian corn. 

There we counted on abundance, and learning the 
head Sultani dwelt in a large stone-walled village we 
could see lying three miles away across the Oyani, hurried 
Saiba, our headman, and some porters across to buy met- 
ama (flour ground from Egyptian millet). But after an 
hour and a half they returned with startling word from 
the Sultani that there was no flour in the valley, that all 
their stock had been sold and delivered the day before to 
two muzungu (Europeans) recently come up from the 
lake with a big safari, one a "medicine man," and then 
camped three miles below us. 

Our situation was desperate, and there was nothing 
for it but an appeal to their generosity, whoever they 
might be the first white men we had heard of since 
leaving Nairobi. 

So Outram and I jumped on our mules and made our 
best pace to the camp, which we found on a high hilltop 
at least a mile from the river. So located, indeed, were all 
the Kavirondo villages, to our surprise, high and far 
back from the Oyani, and all looked newly built. 

As we approached, we quickly recognized it as a boma 
of Government officials, by the uniformed Askaris on 
sentry duty and lolling about their huts. 

Come to the two ample tents of the muzungu, we 
were received by two gentlemen with quiet, "How do 
you do's," just as if we were fellow clubmen whom they 
had been having whiskey and soda with daily all their 
lives, the very hall-mark of that best bred type of Briton 
who stubbornly refuses to be surprised by anything. 
Such a startling apparition as visitors in the remote wilds 


o < 

3 r? 

H p, 

> O 


of Texas or Dakota (when they were happy enough to 
possess such wilds as these) inevitably would have wrung 
out a startled but wholly genial, "Well, stranger, where 
in hell did you come from, and who might you be any- 

And then, even before we had gotten into a pair of 
quickly proffered easy chairs, followed that simple but 
ever welcome ritual of good-fellowship, "Fancy you men 
could do a drink. Boy! lete (bring) whiskey and soda!" 

As soon as I had safely lodged half the bubbling pale 
amber contents of my glass where it could n't get away, 
I introduced Outram and myself by name and got 
another pair of "How do you do's," but no names. 

Then, pressed by the need of our hungry porters, I 
explained we were on safari from Nairobi, out of posho 
and trekked over from the Mara to buy some, but had 
found the Kavirondos' surplus exhausted. This promptly 
brought a kind offer of enough to do us for the moment, 
and expression of the opinion we would be unable to buy 
the fifteen or twenty loads we wanted short of the Govern- 
ment boma at Kisii, three days' journey to the northeast. 

Just where we were we had not known, except that 
we were somewhere on the Oyani River, near its head, 
we had imagined. So that when, shortly, we learned that 
the lake port of Karungu was only eight hours distant, 
we were astonished to realize that we were no more than 
fifteen miles in an air line from Victoria Nyanza, and well 
to the west of Port Florence, the western terminus at the 
lake of the Uganda Railway. 

Then when presently one gentleman inadvertently, 
and I fancy much to his annoyance, revealed half of the 
carefully guarded secret of the identity of both himself 


and the other, by referring to his companion as "Dr. 
Baker," this hint, and the location of camp and native 
villages far from flowing water, disclosed the whole matter 
to me. It was a new " Sleeping Sickness Camp," one of 
the chain of camps the Administrations of the British 
East and Uganda Protectorates are surrounding the west, 
north, and east ends of the lake with in a desperate at- 
tempt to check the spread within their territory. They 
also aim to alleviate as far as possible the sufferings of 
the hundreds of thousands of victims of this dread and 
most mysterious disease. 

Of the cause of the sleeping sickness or of any effective 
cure or means of prevention of its spread, little more is 
now known than when, a few years ago, it swept down 
upon the lake, apparently out of the Congo jungles, the 
most relentless and the worst of all the physical scourges 
medical science has had to battle with. 

Practically all known of it is that it is carried by a 
variety of the tsetse fly which is never found beyond a few 
hundred yards of the lake or rivers; that the tsetse which 
has not bitten a victim of the disease is harmless; that 
the tsetse quickly disappears when areas of lake shore or 
stream side are denuded of all timber, bush, and long 
grass, and that, therefore, water margins may be made 
comparatively safe by such denudation over a belt of 
adequate width; and that the fly may be wholly escaped 
by removal one to two miles from lake or stream margin. 

As for the best treatment so far discovered, it is ad- 
mittedly no more than alleviating. 

With these scraps of useful information gained, the 
Governments are doing their best, concentrating the 
infected on islands that, like lepers, they are never per- 


mitted to leave, or assembling them in isolated hospital 
camps under the most able medical attendance, and re- 
moving the uninfected, en masse, to highlands beyond 
known fly-infested areas. 

Already hundreds of thousands have died of it, nor 
is its spread anywhere really checked. It is creeping north 
and east from the lake, down into German and Portuguese 
territory, invading the boundaries of Rhodesia. Great 
islands like the Sessi group, and vast strips of the main- 
land that a few years ago carried a dense population of 
the intelligent, thrifty, and prosperous Baganda, to-day 
own no tenants but their dead, while their bountiful 
banana plantations and cotton fields have reverted to 
howling jungle. 

Indeed, unless means of prevention and cure are 
found, at any time the sleeping sickness may become a 
world problem of the toughest. Often the disease does 
not develop until a year or more after any possibility of 
infection. And since the scoundrelly little tsetse conveys 
it, some other depraved type of fly or mosquito indige- 
nous to America, Asia, or Europe may yet acquire a tiny 
jag of infection from some returned African dweller or 
traveller, returned apparently well but fallen a victim to 
the disease, which will serve to establish it abroad. 

Thus, undoubtedly, the disease crossed the divide 
between the Congo and lake watersheds, not in a 
poison-laden fly but in a victim of the malady. 

Of its origin or history in barbarous, pestilential 
Congo nothing definite is known, except that it has long 
lurked, and worked there perhaps, certainly quite 
conceivably, a scourge directly caused by and come as a 
punishment for generations of the most ruthless and reck- 


less human slaughter, where thousands upon thousands 
of mutilated dead were left where they fell to foul the 
steaming jungle air and envenom the myriad local types 
of tropical insect life. Indeed, that there may be some 
grain of fact in this ventured fancy is suggested by the 
coincidence that the advent of the sleeping sickness in 
Uganda followed close upon the heels of the wave of 
wholesale slaughter, by revolted Congo Askaris and can- 
nibal Baleka, that swept across several thousands of 
square miles of densely populated territory to the west of 
Lake Kivu and nearly adjacent to Ankori, Uganda's 
southwest Province, where practically all who escaped 
the barbarous invaders perished of hunger and of dis- 
eases bred of the festering corpses with which villages, 
paths, and fields were thickly strewn. 

Early symptoms of sleeping sickness are found in the 
swelling of glands at the base of the neck, just above the 
collar bone, followed by enlargment of other glands. 
Usually the patient lives several years, often five or more, 
most of the time more or less addled of brain, in the latter 
stages frequently insane. As the disease progresses, the 
patient becomes greatly emaciated, notwithstanding an 
inordinate appetite for meat. The drowsy sleeping stage 
is one of the late symptoms. 

Fortunately in British territory only two white men 
have fallen victims of the disease, so far as I could learn, 
although scores of Europeans, officials and missionaries, 
have been freely exposed to it. Both (one an attending 
physician of the sick) returned to Europe for treatment, 
but without avail. 

When I remarked that I imagined they were establish- 
ing a sleeping sickness camp, we were told they 


recently marched up from Karungu for that purpose 
and would the next day begin the construction of a per- 
manent dispensary, hospital, and administration build- 
ings. Asked if there were many sufferers from the 
disease in the valley, Dr. Baker replied he had no doubt 
he could get in for treatment five thousand cases in two 
days, if he had facilities for handling them. Only one 
patient was brought in when we were there, a man of 
powerful frame, securely bound with bark rope, for he was 
mad as a hatter, with homicidal tendency. Repeatedly 
he had tried to kill some of his fellow villagers, and was 
forever screaming for a chance at a muzungu. Ankles 
and wrists were raw of the restraining ropes that had 
shackled him for weeks. He was chained in a hut and 
given an opiate. 

The view from the veranda of their tents was lovely, 
down the broad, steep-sloping valley of the palm-lined 
Oyani to its junction with the Kuja, on north across the 
Kuja to the tall blue crags of Mt. Homa, west to the lofty 
purple crest of the Gwasi range, the highest peak rising 
immediately above the lake, and to the perfect pyramid 
of Nundewot, behind which lay Karungu. 

It was not until after tea and the pair had consented 
to stroll over to our tents for a "sundowner," the happy 
hour and ceremony for which all prudent Africanders 
thirstily, and often grouchily, wait, for the prudent adjure 
spirits until sunset, that I learned (and then only by 
bluntly asking Dr. Baker while we were walking down 
a winding Kavirondo path) of the second gentleman what 
his modesty or habits of reserve had concealed that 
he was Assistant Deputy Commissioner Northcote, the 
chief administrative officer of that district of the Province 


of Kisumu. Though a young man, for years he had 
been a close student and solver of native and provincial 
problems, one of the little group of cool-headed, just- 
dealing, quick-acting, hard-hitting Britons who, often 
isolated among savage thousands many days' march 
from any outside support, with a staff of not more than 
one to three whites, never backed by more than a handful 
of native Askaris, have by their diplomacy and daring 
won and are holding for the Crown its east and central 
African Empire. 

And, although one of the younger members of the 
administrative corps, Mr. Northcote is by no means one 
of the least distinguished. For it was he who, while in 
charge of the Kisii Boma, himself received a spear stab 
from a rebellious native that started the recent Kisii revolt, 
but stubbornly held out till forces arrived adequate to 
hammer the Kisii into submission. 

Finding our camp pitched on a low bench only three 
hundred yards from the Oyani, Dr. Baker advised us to 
move at least a mile south of and two hundred feet above 
the river, for safe escape of flies and mosquitoes, good 
advice on which we promptly acted. 

The next morning the chief of several Kavirondo 
villages, old Agile, came to our camp decorously robed 
in a red blanket and crowned with a tiara of beaded 
leather, the diadem of this insignia of royalty being a gray 
stoneware ointment pot, its mouth bound tightly to the 
centre of his forehead and its body standing straight out 
from the head, giving him the appearance of a two-legged 
stub-horned unicorn. 

Nor were blanket and tiara all of his gaudy regalia, 
for on the back of his head he wore a great brown sun 


helmet that no more was permitted to change its angle 
than was the tightly bound pot or his stony set features 
their expression. So tightly did the helmet cling to its 
fixed angle that we suspected it was attached to the tiara 
and, thus, an integral part of it. 

With Agilo came a dozen or more of his head men, 
superb great fellows black as ink, several well above six 
feet, muscled like finely trained athletes, with thirty- 
three-inch waists and forty-six-inch chests, all naked as 
they were born save for portieres of grease-sodden ringlets 
that dangled about necks and faces and innumerable 
brass and iron wire bangles, covering often the major 
part of arms and legs. 

There came with him a string of totos, perhaps another 
dozen, just a few of the more recent evidences of his pre- 
dilection for paternity, boys and girls, most of them so tiny 
it was a miracle how their slender, wobbly little shanks 
contrived to tote about their great pot bellies. 

There were also a half-dozen matrons and maids carry- 
ing baskets of metama flour, the posho we so badly needed, 
all in the Kavirondo full dress of their station, the maids 
wearing nothing but their amiable smiles and a slender 
string of beads about the waist, the matrons each dis- 
tinguished by a little four-inch tuft of cow-tail hair pen- 
dent, aft, from a like string of beads. 

Innocent, these ebony beauties and extraordinary 
beauties of figure many of the young maids and matrons 
are innocent physically and mentally of costume and 
all that it means as was Mother Eve herself, not even a 
decade of contact and acquaintance with the white race 
resident along the lake, and its highly elevating and refin- 
ing influences, has served either to induce Kavirondo 


women to clothe their nakedness or to surrender an 
integrity to strict virtue no clothed race, red, yellow, 
black, or white, can boast. To this day few Kavirondo 
women will have any man except one of their own blood, 
and him only after due observance of the Kavirondo mar- 
riage ritual, a formal surrender of her by her parents for 
value received in cattle or in sheep. 

Posho in sight, Outram quickly got out and attrac- 
tively displayed our remaining stock of "trade goods." 
The "American!" was already exhausted, parted with in 
return for the "backsheesh," in sheep, milk, and honey, 
brought by the Sultanis of different Masai munyatas. 

But our ten-pound tin of beads still remained nearly 
intact, big beads and little, strung as bracelets, anklets, 
and necklaces, beads of glass and of porcelain, red, white, 
and blue, pink, green, and amber, beads gilt and sil- 
vered a glittering store of coveted treasure the first 
glimpse of which drew from old Agilo a few brief, sharp 
orders to one and another, spoken in the rolling roar of 
mouth-pouting, tongue-wobbling, blubbering labials with 
which Kavirondo communicate confidences, that soon 
wrought wonders. 

Out of this posho-less land, within half an hour naked 
women, young and old, came ambling into camp with 
baskets of metama, and active barter began. Some 
wanted rupees probably such only as were short of 
liquid funds to pay their annual hut tax of Rs. 3 but 
few could resist the temptation of such a rare chance of 
acquiring stunning new full-dress costumes as was afforded 
by the* heaps of tiny shining gauds piled at Outram's tent 
door. And such master of native foibles he proved that 
by night we had acquired twenty loads of metama (one 




thousand, two hundred pounds) at a cost of about a cent 
a pound. And in this price figured liberal donations of 
"backsheesh," to Agilo in coin of the Protectorate and 
to others in trinkets. 

Indeed so pleased were the Kavirondo with their 
traffic that in the afternoon Agile's son led to our tents a 
group of young warriors, all armed and gorgeously decked 
in war dress, himself mounted bareback on a bridled 
br indie steer and wearing his father's war bonnet, a two- 
story mass of superb black ostrich feathers, with a circle 
of white ostrich feathers sticking out at right angles from 
the top of the second story, while another wore a gorgeous 
war bonnet made of grayish yellow monkey skin, tall as 
a grenadier's busby and shaped much like one. 

Up before us they danced, singing a chorus of wel- 
come, occasionally led by His Ostrich Plumes, as often 
as he could succeed in persuading his long-horned 
brindle mount to stay anywhere in the vicinity. Then 
they lined up and gave us a war dance, some of the more 
striking poses of which are shown in my photographs, 
fierce charges, individually and in line, stealthy approaches 
or retreats behind the cover of their enormous shields, 
with brandishings of spears and grimacings of face 
calculated to chill the marrow of the boldest enemy. 

To this afternoon's festivity Agilo sociably brought as 
generous a jag of wembe (native spirits, brewed of honey 
and metama) as his system could hold, and continued to 
carry it to the end of the day without serious injury to 
his Sultanic tiara or dignity. And when at our evening 
parting I risked giving him a modest jorum of gin, which I 
told him was a sample of the sort of water found in most 
of the streams in my country, he wolfed it down, coughed 


and spluttered, and then gurgled to me (through the 
interpreter) an earnest inquiry as to how many days' 
march it was to my country, whether the expression 
of a polite interest in my wandering or of a keen apprecia- 
tion of American "water" he did not explain. 

That night, January 18, I sat down to an unwonted 
luxury, a perusal of the " latest" news, as contained in 
one copy each of the London Weekly Times and the 
London Daily Mail, both of December 18, come a day 
or two before to Northcote and by him kindly given 
to me. 

Oddly, camped there upon the Oyani, which is the 
main southern branch of the Kuja, and come recently 
from the Mara, the two largest tributaries of Victoria 
Nyanza, the mother of the Nile, a traveller for weeks along 
and between the Nile's remotest sources, and in territory 
still plotted as "unknown" upon the most recently pub- 
lished maps, a region a scant dozen white men have ever 
entered, the very first article to catch my eye in The 
Times was an account of the Royal Geographical Society's 
meeting in commemoration of the fiftieth anniversary of 
Speke's solution of the world-old Nile source mystery by 
the discovery of Victoria Nyanza, the crowning feat of the 
many most notable of his African explorations, begun 
the year I was born, 1856. 

The next day we wasted on promises of Agilo to fur- 
nish porters he did not produce to carry our posho to the 
Mara, and for which he was promised a premium for 
himself of Rs. i each. However, the delay gave us op- 
portunity for the pleasure of having Northcote and Baker 
at luncheon; and while we had nothing better than chop 


boxes to serve as table and seats, and a menu I am sure 
Oscar would have improved, whether our guests enjoyed 
it or not, I know Outram and I did. 

During luncheon Northcote cracked almost to a 
shatter our hope of elephant, by telling us that while 
there were probably three to four hundred elephant rang- 
ing between the Kisii Highlands and the Maggori, the 
Masai on the east and the Kavirondo on the west, the 
big tuskers were largely shot out by poaching ivory 
hunters from German territory; of course, we might 
with rare luck strike a good one, but the herds were kept 
so constantly on the march, by movements of the native 
population densely crowding around them, and their 
country was so nearly inaccessible, that it would be sheer 
luck if we sighted them at all, no matter how hard we 

However, despite this discouragement, we decided to 
give them a good try, and the following day marched back 
to Toroni's, sending ahead of us three men to fetch on 
from our Mara camp enough donkeys to carry the posho 
we left with Northcote. 

That morning, ranging ahead and far to the west of 
the safari in hope of seeing roan, I sighted a topi wearing 
what looked to me a record pair of horns. The best I 
could do was to get a three hundred and fifty yard shot, 
but down of it he tumbled, and, after several ineffectual 
efforts to rise, lay still. Having learned nothing yet of 
experience, I turned to call up my syce and mule, only to 
be nudged by my gun bearer and shown a gleaming 
russet flank disappearing into the bush. 

Quickly Habia picked up the blood-stained trail. 


For three hours we followed it, but never once had he 
laid down, and only once, from a hilltop, did I sight him 
with my glasses, drooping slowly along in the valley be- 
neath us; but by the time we could climb down he was 
gone, gone for good, as blood flow had stopped and he 
had reached a maze of trails made by other buck. 

Swinging to bear off toward Toroni's, we had not 
gone a half-mile before I sighted a real prize, a Lichten- 
stein hartebeeste bull and a fine big old chap. On this 
fellow I took no chances, and rained lead into him until 
he collapsed and lay still and at that it took five 9 m.m. 
soft nose Mauser bullets to do the work, notwithstanding 
the first was in the shoulder and the second a fair centre 
chest shot. His horns were 19 inches on the outer curve, 
7 inches in spread, 10} inches at base, while from tip of 
nose to tip of horns he measured 30 J inches. 

But, like many another hard-won, dear-loved treasure 
the Fates refuse to spare one, my ownership of the Lich- 
tenstein was so brief I scarcely had time to get well 
acquainted with it. That night the head skin was care- 
fully removed and skull and under jaw cleaned, the skin 
sheltered from the dew and the jaw and skull and horns 
placed on top of one of the boys' grass huts, six feet from 
the ground, within a circle of bush no more than thirty 
feet in diameter, close about which at least a dozen of us 
were sleeping, the only gap between huts and tents filled 
in by the tethered mules, our two dogs lolling among us. 

During the night nothing unusual happened, except 
that my boy, Salem, sleeping near the mess fire and next 
the hut that held the trophies, awakened toward morning, 
heard near at hand a soft leopard purr, and, looking about, 


saw a pair of glowing eyes taking in the camp; but the 
two or three firebrands he threw at it sent it scampering 
away, and shortly he dozed off again. 

But when morning came the Lichtenstein skull and 
horns were gone! Gone for good, notwithstanding all 
my porters and a lot of Toroni's Masai were out all day 
searching grass and bush for them, gone in spite of the 
fact that the skull was stripped clean of meat except tiny 
clinging fragments that, altogether, would scarcely surfeit 
a mouse, apparently filched by the leopard out of sheer 
devilment, for about the boys' fires were many sticks 
loaded with cooking meat of the day's kill or perhaps 
he had tasted their cooking and disapproved it. That it 
was the leopard was certain, for no tracks but his w r ere 
found near camp. 

Thus I still remain the possessor of a fine Lichtenstein 
under jaw and head skin, but fear I shall always lack a 
skull and pair of horns to fit it. 

Indeed in the African bush one cannot be too careful 
of anything he values, else he is sure sooner or later to 
fall a victim of one or another of the night marauders of 
the jungle. While most of the night prowlers are after 
meat, alive or dead, to the hyena all is fish that enters his 
net: boots, leggings, or gun cases, are to him attractive 
types of entrees, while bridles, saddles, or curing hides 
are pieces de resistance he appears to adore. Really, after 
learning, on wholly trustworthy authority, of an incident 
of the joint Anglo- German Boundary Survey four years 
ago, I am puzzled to fancy what can be safe against mighty 
hyena jaws. 

One evening Herr Hauptmann Schlobach, the Imperial 


German Commissioner, had some meat cut up on the lid 
of a fifty-pound chop box that stood immediately before 
the door of his tent. In the morning the box was gone, 
but search soon discovered deeply imprinted hyena tracks 
which, followed, led to the missing chop box lying full 
eighty yards outside the camp, its lid licked clean, deep 
teeth marks at one corner showing how it had been 
lifted and carried! 

OUR two Masai and several of Toroni's were sent 
out at daylight on a prowl for fresh elephant 
tracks, but returned after dark, worn to a frazzle 
by their fourteen hours' plod through grass and bush, 
with news that all the sign was several days old and showed 
movement south and east toward the Maggori River. 

In the afternoon Toroni paid us a visit, accompanied 
by a score of his headmen and followed by a small delega- 
tion of his wives and children, seventeen of the wives and 
more of the children than I took time to count, the wo- 
men and children chanting a chorus of welcome to the 
accompaniment of the jingle, as they danced up to us, of 
beautifully made iron and brass wire chains, necklaces, 
and stomachers. The central figures in the photograph 
are Toroni, his youngest and pet wife, and the Heiress 
Apparent, a type of Ethiopian beauty not easy to beat. 

At first I took their coming as a visit of state, but was 
soon made to realize that their real purpose was to seek 
medical attendance. 

Whoever had preceded us there I do not know, but 
it must have been some amiable white man who fed them 
sugar or chocolate as medicine. For, although about as 
sturdy and sound looking a lot, from old to young, as 
could be picked from any people, all were sufferers of 
something and in a desperate bad way of it, according to 
their story: all must have dawa (medicine) and get it 
quick to be safe of living the day out. 



With a medicine chest that held nothing but perman- 
ganate of potash, bandages, quinine, calomel and salts, 
and little indeed of these, I was up a stump. But, since 
something must be done, I launched boldly out upon the 
to me uncharted sea of diagnosis, all the time racking my 
brains for schemes to husband our precious little store of 

The first prescription I ventured on, a dose of salts, 
gave me a hint the patient made a shocking wry face 
over it. So to the next two I gave quinine and made 
them bite and chew the pills, and to the third, a wrinkled 
old boy with a slight bark off the shin, I applied an 
extra strong solution of permanganate that made him 
howl and at the same time served to relieve me of 
further demands for dawa. 

After another forenoon out, the twenty-second of 
January, our Masai reported again all elephant trekked 
toward the Maggori, so in the afternoon we marched about 
ten miles southeast, camping on a little stream the Masai 
called "Looseandgiddy," as near as we could understand 
them, two miles from its junction with the Maggori. 

Before starting we paid Toroni a farewell visit, in 
hope of a chance to buy some swords, bows, coats, snuff 
boxes, spears, etc. But not a thing did we get, except a 
photograph of the interior of the munyata, Toroni lording 
it in the centre of the picture. Neither among the 
Kavirondo nor at Toroni's were we able to get even a 
price set on a single curio, much less to buy one: tight 
to their weapons, war panoply, and personal trinkets both 
lots stuck. 

When we arrived at the munyata we found prac- 
tically all the men and youths out tending their flocks 



and herds, while the ladies of the village were divided 
about equally into three busy groups. 

At the time it was quite the height of the local dry 
season, so that there was no rain whatever except a 
torrential all-night downpour every third night, with heavy 
thunder and lightning, and on each two intervening 
nights two to three hour showers that would make a 
stranger yell for a life preserver, all which was not espe- 
cially conservative of the Masai architecture. 

Thus the first of the three groups of Masai ladies we 
encountered were engaged in gathering handfuls of fresh 
cow dung and plastering damaged roofs with it ; the second 
group, seated beneath trees near the gate, was engaged 
in braiding rush mats ; while the third lolled in the shade, 
alternatingly dozing and watching Groups One and Two 
these latter, probably, the Sudani's favorites. 

Inquiring for Toroni, we were pointed to a lone tree 
on a hill two hundred yards away, where we found him 
stretched on a lion skin, frayed and worn of years as was 
he himself, sleeping off what must have been an extra 
heavy overnight jag of "bang" or tembo, for the hour 
of our call was near noon. Indeed it was with some 
difficulty we roused sufficient energy in him to get him to 
toddle back to the munyata and stand long enough to be 

About our "Looseandgiddy" camp elephant sign 
from one to three days old was thick everywhere; in- 
dividual tracks, roads beaten smooth thirty feet wide, 
many trees one to two feet thick and thirty to forty feet 
high uprooted, wallows, tall giant tree trunks rubbed 
bare of bark and stained or plastered with mud ten feet 
from the ground, eleuhant " rub-downs" after a mud 


bath. One such tree stood immediately before my tent 
door, bare of bark and mud-stained ten feet from its 
base, and with a heavy limb extending at right angles 
from the trunk eleven feet from the ground whose under- 
side was also barked and mud-stained, proving there was 
at least one worthy old giant tusker left living thereabouts. 

And yet for three days we ranged the country round 
about from dawn to dark, south to the Maggori and 
north toward the Kisii, without sighting anything but a 
few buck. 

The morning of the fourth day, disgusted by fruitless 
prowls, Outram and I lay in camp, when at ten o'clock 
one of our two Masai came panting in with word he had 
a big bull marked down two hours to the north, having 
left his mate on w r atch. And off we were trekking in five 
minutes at the best pace we could make through grass, 
bowlders, and bush. 

Sharp at twelve the watching Masai stopped us. 
Below his hillside post lay the heavily timbered valley of a 
tributary of the Oyani, and down into the timber he 

While light, the wind was wrong for an approach 
from that side, so we made a wide detour to the south 
and wormed our way through the half-mile of timber to 
the west side only to find the wind had shifted. Then 
we made another wide circle, recrossed to the east side 
of the valley, and, rinding the wind held fair, swung 
round to a point where we could plainly hear what we 
took to be our bull for the boys had seen only one 
alternately smashing bush and splashing water. 

Here Akuna and Habia stripped themselves of skin 
wraps, sandals, neck chains, and ear rings, of every- 


thing but a bow and three poisoned arrows each, and 
crept into the wall of vine and foliage. Outram and I, 
followed by our two gun bearers, ourselves stripped of 
everything that could catch, scratch, or rattle, crept in 
after them. By all ill luck there were no elephant or 
other game paths where we entered, making progress 
doubly difficult. 

While midday with a blazing sun outside, within the 
forest was dark as a heavily curtained room. Our pro- 
gress was like swimming through breakers waves of 
vines and foliage engulfing us at nearly every step. Some- 
times we could not see an arm's length about us, usually 
no more than ten feet; and when not corkscrewing our- 
selves through vines and creepers, we were clambering 
up the one side and glissading down the other of moss- 
covered and slippery fallen forest giants. 

About a hundred yards in we reached the muddy 
stream, and there encountered redoubled difficulties. 
Flowing in a straight or steep-banked channel ten to 
twenty feet deep and thirty to forty feet wide, it did its 
best toward boxing the compass every thirty yards, 
serpentine as the vines that dangle above it or the 
python that twine in ambush upon its overhanging 

At the first crossing Awala, my gun bearer, slipped and 
fell splashing into the creek fifteen feet below, but luckily 
at the same instant the tusker had hold of a bough he 
wanted in his business and was making racket enough 
to drown any noise short of a shot. 

All the time we were drawing nearer our quarry, 
pushing deeper toward the centre of the bush, working 
carefully up wind, there so light one could scarce feel it, 


the two naked Masai gliding ahead of us keen as hounds 
and silent and sinuous of movement as snakes. 

Not a sound had we heard save from the one point, 
apparently all made by one elephant; therefore we felt 
assured we were in luck and had before us a really big 
old tusker, for such usually flock by their lonesomes or 
in pairs. 

After three crossings of the brook, we were able to 
work along it perhaps eighty yards, to a place where 
we had to stop. Immediately in front of us, not ten feet 
away it seemed and we later found it was actually twenty 
feet, behind a solid wall of foliage was our elephant. 

And no sooner were we stopped than, as if as a con- 
certed tip to us that they had us where they wanted us, all 
about us rose sounds of elephant a smashing branch 
here, a mighty sigh of surfeit there, a plash in the stream, 
the suck of a great foot pulled from mud ! We had inno- 
cently meandered into the middle of a feeding herd ! 

They were even behind us, and absolutely the only 
direction in which we could see thirty feet was immedi- 
ately to our left, where a fallen log bridged the creek 
from bank to bank twenty feet above the water, and that 
happened to be the only point from which we did not 
hear them. 

If we had tried we could scarcely have put ourselves 
in a more foolish or dangerous position; for no matter 
how heavy the ivory he sights, no experienced elephant 
hunter shoots in the middle of a herd he has unwittingly 
pushed into; whichever way they start they go, and like 
as not it will be the hunter's way; while if a wounded bull 
does n't hunt you down as relentlessly as a fiend, it is an 
even bet some pet lady of his harem will. 


Neither Outram nor I had ever seen wild elephant, 
much less hunted them, and what to do was a puzzle to 
us the more so that questions and answers must needs 
be limited to silent signs. Of course we might have 
slipped away to probable safety across the fallen tree 
trunk, but that was not precisely what we had been doing 
a fortnight's marching and scouting for. 

So there we stood, still as statues, eyes roving aloft, 
ahead, to right and aft, not daring even to cock a gun 
(I had a Winchester .405 in my hands with a Mauser 
9 m.m. in reserve) before catching a glimpse of a head } 
expecting every instant to see a giant trunk reaching 
down for us. 

Of course every move they made sounded as if they 
were coming; not once by any happy chance did we 
hear any sound that suggested a recessional. 

And so expectantly w r e stood, I myself, I frankly admit, 
gripping my teeth together till they ached to help hold my 
nerves steady; and so round us they fed and amused them- 
selves full twenty minutes, they in as blissful ignorance of 
our presence as we of what was going to happen, or how 
hard it would happen when it got well started. 

After a number of minutes, anywhere from twenty to 
thirty probably, the two Masai tiptoed across the fallen 
tree and slipped a few feet up stream, where both crouched 
and gestured violently to us to come at once. 

They were at precisely a point to see behind the screen 
in front of me and have in view the elephant they had 
located as the big bull they had seen and reported, pro- 
vided he was not also screened from the east. 

At the moment there was a tremendous racket all 
about us, and I thought I would chance it. 


The log was level half the way, and then rose in a steep 
five-foot bend to its lodgement on the farther bank, green 
with loose-clinging wet moss; and, by all contraries in 
this maze of tangle, not a single vine or branch within 
reach of it. 

Out I started, with gun transversed as a balancing 
pole, and steadied, I suppose, by our dilemma, over it 
I safely got, notwithstanding groans and yieldings of the 
rotten trunk that I thought surely would dump me twenty 
feet to the stream beneath. Indeed, I had to go so gin- 
gerly that the more active Outram shinned down a vine, 
waded the creek, and hand-over-handed up another vine 
to a close finish, both in time and silence, with my crossing. 

Crept up to the Masai, to our disgust we found no more 
was there to be seen than from our previous stand, though 
we could see fifty yards on our left, useful if the elephant 
moved that way, and on that they had summoned us. 

But scarcely had we taken in our new position before 
a very hell of torment broke loose on our front, trees 
crashing as if they were being levelled by a cyclone, 
trumpetings shrill and blood-chilling as the storm's 
angriest voices, the dull thud of bumping colossi and the 
sharp almost metalic clash of ivory tusks grinding in the 
mad stampede, like the rasp of giant swords in deadly 

For a half-second, or minute, or hour, I give it up 
which, the outer lot raced straight in on the chap in front 
of us, and therefore straight at us, while there was nothing 
for us to do but stand fast, ready to pump lead into the 
faces of the first-comers on the off chance of turning them. 

Beside us, steady as rocks, stayed the two little Masai, 
each with a slender, puny arrow half-drawn to the head, 


safe enough in time to kill but powerless to stop. Indeed, 
I recall a flying wish I might be excused long enough from 
the more urgent duties of the moment to snapshot them 
- with every muscle of their lithe, graceful bodies tense, 
left foot advanced, knees slightly bent, and sinewy fingers 
tugging at bow strings, they were for an artist an ideal 
pose of flint-age warriors. 

Of course the creek lay between us, which might seem 
measurable protection, but it was not, for elephant go up 
and down declivities, almost in their stride, that would 
balk almost anything less agile than an ape. 

But, come directly up to "our" elephant, of his fancy 
or theirs, all whirled and thundered straight away from 
us, angling to our right. And back across logs and creek, 
through vines and scrub, we hurdled as best we could 
for chance of a sight of them. 

But scarcely were we a hundred feet beyond the creek, 
before directly back upon their tracks they came at as mad 
a pace as their start, and back to our original stand by the 
stream side we dashed. 

These were the most trying seconds of the lot, for it 
seemed certain we had to face a straight onrush and turn 
them or take whatever was coming to us. 

It proved to be our day to learn a lot of the ele- 
phant's whims and of the downright stark miraculous 
things he can do when he likes. 

Stock-still they stopped ten yards from us (as we after- 
wards proved), but hidden from us as before, and this 
time bunched to perhaps a half-circle about us. Stopped, 
and for probably ten minutes there was utter silence in the 
forest, save for the barking of monkeys querulous of all 
the row, and then the beggars started feeding and amusing 


themselves as before. This continued for perhaps fifteen 
minutes, when absolutely all sound again ceased and the 
wood was still of them as if they had all dropped dead 
which in fact, in our ignorance we fancied they had, dead 

And there we sat for the larger part of an hour, 
wondering what length of afternoon siesta is approved in 
well-regulated elephant families, in constant expectation 
of renewed movement by some of the herd, and in hope 
of a show for a shot at a bull worth while. That they 
were still within the toss of a biscuit of us we would have 

But when, presently, a slight stir among the leaves 
directly before Outram made us throw up our rifles, out 
stepped Akuna, who had raced out of our sight in pursuit 
of the first stampede to track its route and had been cut 
off from us by their sudden return, with the incredible 
intelligence that the elephant were gone out of the bush 
and trekking away into the north. 

Was the Masai mad or were we ? Or was it all just a 
dream? Or had we been drunk of the excitement of a 
real experience ? 

Magic! No prestidigitator could touch this vanishing 
act, from under our very noses, of tons and tons of ambu- 
lant weight in country where we pigmies could scarce stir 
without causing noise, where nothing short of a legitimate 
spook or a handily manipulated "materializing spirit" 
could circulate without twig-snapping and leaf-rustling! 

And yet it proved to be true. Gone were they all, 
by what miracles of stealth I doubt if the oldest elephant 
hunter knows: one has them before him, almost within 
gun-barrel touch, and then they are gone! That is all. 


And yet in our case the spoor of their leaving showed 
that, besides the obstacles of the forest growth, they had 
within fifty feet of us crossed a wide area of mud into 
which their great bulk had stamped footprints eighteen 
inches deep (one measuring twenty-two inches from toe 
to heel), and then passed down into and across the gravelly 
stream bed, that crunched to our lightest tread. 

How many were there? Quien sabe? Massed in 
the onrush of mad flight, it sounded like two thousand 
in fact, as well as we could judge from the tracks merging 
outside the bush into a great, broad, improvised road, there 
were between twenty and forty. 

If seeing alone were believing, there were no elephant, 
for not the smallest glimpse of one did any of our party 
get. But there all about lay bark-stripped boughs, the 
wreck of their luncheon, there on the sturdier tree trunks 
within a few yards of our position was the wet mud of 
their " rub-down." 

On their spoor we followed until we realized it was 
useless to go farther off they were, as usual in such cases, 
for a twenty to forty mile constitutional, bearing toward 
the Kisii Highlands. 

So we headed for camp, reaching there long after 
dark just as tired as if we had really done something. 

One more day we lay at the "Looseandgiddy" camp, 
circling the country again carefully as far as we could 
reach until convinced all the sign of elephant thereabouts 
had been made by the departed herd. While profitless 
of game, the day was interesting and amusing. I was 
ranging to the south, alone with Habia, incidentally look- 
ing for a Lichtenstein bull which I had wounded late the 
previous evening near camp, and which had trekked off 


that way. A country where tracking an individual buck 
was impossible, my only guide to his retreat was the birds, 
the vultures or marabouts. These carrion feeders must 
certainly be gifted with eyesight of high telescopic power. 
Drop a kill without a bird in sight, and before you get the 
skin off, usually, the ill-favored tribe are all about you in 
a thick flight or glaring hungrily down from perch in 
neighboring treetops. Rarely does a wounded buck travel 
a mile before he is spied by some winged scout soaring so 
high in the blue he is an almost indistinguishable speck, 
and then it is only a matter of an instant when, by some 
weird signal code none but the birds themselves will ever 
know, a merciless crew is cruising near above him from 
which there is for him no escape if he once goes down, 
for, by some cruelly cunning felon instinct, their first 
assault is upon his dimming eyes. Nor, though strong 
enough to keep his feet for hours or fight off attack if 
down, may he reckon on escape all day long they hover 
above him, all night long perch about any bushy nook 
in which he may be vainly seeking rest. 

It is bad enough to shoot and kill any harmless beast, 
only explainable as an irrepressible survival of aboriginal 
instincts, bred into some of us past eradication by genera- 
tions of ancestral skin-wearing, two-legged carnivora, but 
it is absolutely wicked to wound such and leave them, and 
I never leave a wounded beast so long as chance remains 
of reaching and finishing him. 

The Lichtenstein, however, proved too strong for both 
man and bird. Early, within two miles of camp, a slow- 
soaring, circling crew of birds marked him down for us 
on a high hillslope, covered with grass, rocks, and bush 
one could not get through without so much noise that 


approach was impossible. Off he would go each time 
at such a pace shown by the fast-shifting birds that 
after two hours we saw that further pursuit must be useless. 

Then we swung across the top of the high hill we had 
been following, and I got a superb view of the great valley 
of the Maggori River and its wide watershed, far south 
into German territory, the distant hills showing a line of 
smoke columns that told of dense native settlement. 

Descending toward the river, suddenly my Masai 
stopped and bent and listened. We were in good ele- 
phant country, sign all about, on our immediate right a 
deep, heavily timbered gorge, and I, too, paused to listen, 
but all I could hear was the peculiar twitter-twitter of 
a flitting flock of tiny birds, strange to me. 

Presently off down hill darted Habia, faster than I 
could follow over such bad going, out of my sight in a 
half-dozen jumps. Whatever had started him or whatever 
he was after I could not fancy, but on I followed. 

Shortly I found him, at the turn of a bush, bent over 
gathering wisps of dry and green grass and twining and 
pressing them into a tight round wad. This finished to 
suit him, he ran to me with it and signed he wanted a 
match, quicker a bit but no surer than his own fire sticks. 

Puzzled, but powerless to question him, I gave him 
matches, when he ran to a big bowlder almost hidden in 
the long grass, bent and parted the tangle at one corner 
of its base, crouched, lighted his wad of grass, and close 
against the bottom of the rock laid it, bending his face 
close down above the smoking grass and tightly hooding 
head and smoke with his skin coat. 

" Hello," thought I, "here's a new cure for influenza," 
for he had been snuffling and coughing from a cold for a 


day or two. I started to approach, the better to watch 
him, when out and all about me roared a colony of mad 
bees, wild for revenge upon the looter of their hard-won 
honey. And, as usual, the real looter got off far the 
lightest, how I don't know for he was in a crowd of them 
for several minutes while I was tumbling down hill at my 
best pace and keeping ahead of all but their fastest 
sprinters, too. In fact, just for once even Habia could 
not catch me until I had safely outfooted the last of my 
other pursuers. Nor did I feel at all adequately compen- 
sated when he came panting up to me with four great 
cakes of beautiful amber honey, each about twelve 
inches by five inches in size, three tucked under the arm 
that held his bow and knob-kerrie, the full half of the 
fourth down his throat, and the other half following as 
fast as he could ram it down without quite choking to 
death as also followed down the same insatiable little 
maw within the next half-hour practically all of the three 
other great slabs; a nibble or two did for me, for that 
particular lot was of indifferent flavor. But, flavor or no 
flavor, with that little savage honey was honey and stood 
no more show of prolonged existence than a smuggled box 
of chocolate caramels in a girls' boarding school. 

Lower down the slope I sighted with my glasses a 
herd of water buck far away across the Maggori, two fine 
heads in the lot. Supposing the river little more there 
than the broiling, overgrown brook we had crossed a few 
miles higher up, I hurried down toward it, in spite of a 
torrent of b'r'ring, clucking, sputtering Masai that was 
plainly a stagger at protest. Pushing through the wide 
belt of thorn and palm that lined the stream, I soon learned 
the reason: before me stretched a broad yellow flood, 


over a hundred feet wide and looking deep enough to 
float a cruiser and mean enough to harbor crocodiles. 
That was quite too large an order. But directly the mur- 
mur of distant rapids caught my ear. A half-mile down 
stream we found them, the river cascading down a sharp 
descent among a lot of big white bowlders bowlders 
so thickly strewn in the roaring, plunging current I thought 
I could negotiate them. To mid-stream I did get, but 
there the next jump was hopelessly long from a wet and 
slippery take-off, and I had to give it up. Nor did I get 
back ashore any too easily, for where, coming, I had 
picked rough surfaces and edges to alight on, returning, 
reverse sides offered no better than smooth slopes that 
kept me moving quickly once I started; for, once tumbled 
into it, no man could have made shore out of that turmoil. 

However, I did not regret the detour when I got a 
lovely photograph of the head of the boiling rapid and the 
palms that crown it. And I regretted it less when, ten 
minutes later, taking shelter in bush from a heavy shower, 
I found a wild cherry tree loaded with delicious fruit 
half ripe, golden and crimson; ripe, their fat sides reflect- 
ing all the richer, duskier ruby lights a decanter of port 
flashes back at the candles. 

Sweet were those cherries of flavor as they were 
beautiful of favor; and there we stayed so long eating 
them that, what with that delay, and, tipped by another 
twitter of honey birds, the scenting, robbing, and con- 
sumption of another bee treasure store by Habia (this 
time found in a hollow tree), night fell upon us so far 
from camp that none but an aboriginal's instincts for 
location and direction could have brought us in. 

That day our donkeys arrived from the Mara and were 


pushed on to Mr. Northcote's boma for the posho we 
had left with him. 

The next two days we travelled east toward the Mara, 
camping at noon of the second day on the wide reaches 
of low, rolling tableland that form the crest of the Isuria 
Escarpment, and near its eastern brink, where it drops 
almost sheer twelve hundred feet to the valley of the Mara. 

Burned the year before of its tangle of old grass, then 
carpeted with a short two-foot growth of juicy blue 
grass, its tops already seeded and browning, stirred by 
the breezes into ever shifting patterns, reflecting sunlight 
on its crests and shadowed in its hollows, dotted here and 
there with wild olives and mats of bush, it looked like a 
vast field of richly embossed Spanish leather tinged with 
every hue of russet and of green. 

Quick is Dame Nature's scene-shifting in Equatorial 
Africa. A fortnight earlier rain was pouring nightly; 
vivid greens were everywhere, ponds in every hollow, 
the birds blithely twittering their merriest spring songs, 
the sun blazing out of a vault of cobalt blue. 

Returned, with the rain stopped no more than four 
days as we could plainly see from our " Looseandgiddy" 
camp we found busy, pulsing Spring had made a one- 
bound leap into the restful lap of "Indian Summer"; 
birds indolent, slow of flight, and little prone to song; the 
sharp, high-keyed metallic ring of the African crickets' 
chirp mellowed to lower, lazier notes ; the drone of myriad 
insects; flights of grasshoppers rising as one walked, in 
white clouds that looked like an inverted, uprising snow 
storm; a heavy haze over all the land that completely 
hid the outlook down upon and across the valley of the 
Mara until, standing upon the edge of the escarpment, it 


seemed as if one had stepped out upon some bold head- 
land and was gazing off across a fog-hid sea. 

Out at 3 P. M. Outram and I strolled, in different 
directions, on the chance of roan or eland and to kill 
meat for the camp, of which we had had little for many 
days while in the Maggori-Oyani country. 

Tiny thirty-pound oribi were thick almost as the 
grasshoppers, and about as hard to shoot. Usually you 
never saw T them until they rose out of the grass at your 
feet and dodged away at express speed, with low-bent 
heads all hidden from your sight in the grass, rising occa- 
sionly in mighty leaps six or eight feet above the grass tops 
for a glimpse of whatever might be going on around them. 
Occasionally you had a glimpse of two little ears or a 
slender pair of four-inch, straight upstanding horns, 
and caught through the grass tops the gleam of great 
liquid eyes fixed upon you in wondering inquiry, and then 
a graceful, fourteen-carat golden-yellow body went alter- 
nately gliding and rocketting past you. They take shoot- 
ing, do these little oribi, for while sometimes you can get 
a standing shot at from seventy-five to one hundred and 
fifty yards, usually all you see is the little head and neck, 
and it 's a guess for the position of the body. 

While I saw no roan or eland, that was rather a banner 
evening for me in shooting. My bag included one fine 
water buck with twenty-six-inch horns, three Coke's 
hartebeeste bulls, and two oribi, each killed with a single 
shot except the big four-hundred-pound water buck, 
which needed a second to down him. 

And never have I seen such extraordinary evidence of 
the amazing vitality of African game, big and little, as 
there. The first of the two oribi bounded away as if not 


hit, although I knew I must have struck it. Following the 
line of its flight, and leaving my gun bearer to try to follow 
its actual trail, at the turn of a bush I saw an oribi stand- 
ing that I took to be mine, but before I could shoot, off 
he bounded, and several more rose from the grass and 
followed him. Then off a long way on my left I spied 
another lone oribi and began stalking. Presently it 
trotted ahead, and I saw that it was followed by what 
I took to be its toio (kid), nuzzling eagerly for dinner. 
Then down lay the "doe" and into its belly dove a little 
yellow head, apparently not longer to be denied a suckle. 

Surprised, wondering if antelope really suckle their 
young while recumbent, I stole closer and closer, until 
directly I was astounded to find that the pair were 
the wounded oribi buck and my blood-thirsty little Irish 
bull terrier Pugge, who, unknown to me, had rushed 
across from Outram at the sound of my shot and found 
and tackled the wounded quarry. 

This buck there lay full seven hundred yards from 
where he had received my full shot! And how much 
farther he might have gone without Pugge' s intervention 
I can only conjecture. 

Outram played in better luck, for he sighted roan and 
brought in the only one he contrived to get a shot at, a 
fine young buck but with immature horns. 

That night our camp looked like a well-stocked but- 
cher's shop, with its one thousand, five hundred pounds 
of hanging meat; and from dark to dawn our crowd of 
shenzi porters sat noisily gorging themselves, like a bunch 
of Indians after a big buffalo kill, and cutting into strips 
and smoke-curing the meat they could not stow inside 



them. Nor were they the only hungry ones about, for 
repeatedly a tribe of laughing hyena tried to rush the 
meat, and were only kept off by the firebrands the jealous 
porters kept throwing at them. 

One more try we had for roan and eland from that 
camp, but without success, travelling ten miles southeast 
along the escarpment to the skeleton of a triangulation 
beacon, built there on a high promontory five years before 
by Outram for the Boundary Survey. After we had 
abandoned hope of getting better game that day, I 
mortally wounded a big wart-hog, but he showed a lot 
of fight and got three more shots. 

Groggy, but not down, Outram called to the porter 
leading her to loose Pugge. Stupidly released with the 
leading chain still fast to her collar, the plucky little 
terrier bounded to the attack, and hot and heavy she 
and the pig had it for ten minutes. 

But the porter's blunder nearly cost us Pugge's life, 
for midway of the fight the pig fell and lay upon the 
chain, and then, shaking her loose from her pet hold aft, 
swung and caught her by the throat, slitting it to ribbons 
but luckily not puncturing the jugular. It all happened 
so quickly that before Outram got in a finishing shot 
Pugge had wrested free of the boar's sharp tusks and was 
herself tackling again as furiously as ever. 

Early in the afternoon we parted, Outram swinging to 
the west and I to the east. Just at sundown I shot a good 
Chandler reed buck in one of the favorite haunts of its 
kind, among the crags along the edge of the escarpment. 
Night fell before the buck was skinned, and although the 
moon was well on in its first quarter I should never have 


made the six miles to camp, winding among endless iso- 
lated clumps of timber and belts of heavy forest, but for 
the brute instinct of Habia, my little Wanderobo-bred 
Masai, who always brought me in on air lines, no matter 
how dark the night was. 


THE next morning, January 30, we received a 
message from our Engabai (Masai name for Mara) 
camp to the effect that a mysterious lone muzungu 
was there awaiting us, whom Outram was not long in 
placing as a sort of cross between a trader and a raider, 
whose camp in German territory had been seized recently 
and his arms, goods, and cattle confiscated or destroyed 
by German Askaris, one of the fast-disappearing class 
of ivory hunters and traders who a few years ago were win- 
ning fortunes at their dangerous game. 

Indeed, I have met men who have cleared as high as 
$75,000 off their ivory taken on a six months' expedition, 
some traded from the natives but most of it fallen to 
their own guns. Then came the game laws, the game 
rangers to enforce them, and heavy penalties for infringe- 
ment, making contraband all ivory but the insignificant 
lots shot under a sportsman's license. Not a few re- 
belled against these laws, the hardy, independent lot, 
many gentlemen bred, who for years had endured every 
hardship and taken their lives in their hands every morn- 
ing they went out into forest or long grass after tuskers, 
every hour they spent in the fever-breeding jungles, 
elephants' haunt, lured by the love of adventure and the 
chance of gains adequate to afford them every last luxury 
of civilization for the half-year they spent out of the bush. 

But while elephants and other game had to be pro- 


tected to save them from extinction, it was a misfortune 
for the country that it should have become necessary to 
legislate this class out of the field. Expressed official 
opinions to the contrary notwithstanding, these latter- 
day ivory hunters and traders, come in on the heels of the 
departing Arabs, were pacifiers of the natives, working 
usually as individuals, all alone, or at best in pairs, 
without armed escorts, with none but native attendants 
and porters, their prosperity and indeed their very exist- 
ence dependent upon just, fair dealing with all natives 
with whom they came in contact. 

What with diplomacy and sheer bluff, these men often 
settled tribal turbulence, and even succeeded in making 
peace between tribes that, previously, had never ceased 
warring with and raiding each other. Sometimes, to be 
sure, they won peace at cost of blood, but peace they 
always strove for as most conducive to their own success. 

Indeed, several of these men often wielded more actual 
influence and power over thousands of natives than that 
inspired by all the authority and armed force of the estab- 
lished Government as when John Boies went among 
the hostile Kikuyu alone and brought in food supplies 
that saved from impending famine hundreds of Swahilis 
and East Indians employed in building the Uganda Rail- 
way, followed this stroke by pacifying and amalgamating 
thirty-five hostile factions of the Kikuyu, and so firmly 
held the rein on them that five thousand Kikuyu warriors 
were equally ready to make war or till their shambas at 
his command, ruled them with such undisputed sway 
that he was actually made king of the Kikuyu; or as 
when John Alfred Jordan went alone into the Setik and 
brought into Kericho chiefs that had refused to come on 



Government summons, and whom the Government felt 
they had no force adequate to fetch, chiefs who had 
never before entered a British post or camp. 

And it was one of these men, no other than John 
Alfred Jordan himself, we found at our Engabai camp 
when we trekked down there January 31. 

Above six feet in height, high-browed, with keen, 
brightly intellectual face lighted by big, brown, dreamy 
eyes that glint dangerous lights when lit by a spirit of 
devilment or fury, beardless save for a wisp of dark 
moustache and two little chin tufts that served to accent- 
uate a set of lean, square jaws, with the long, slender, 
delicate hands of an artist belied by a great reach of arm 
and Fitzsimmons shoulders, usually slow and indolent of 
motion but a cat in activity and a whirlwind in force 
when roused, Jordan silent about the camp fire, medita- 
tive, in repose bore a remarkable resemblance to Robert 
Louis Stevenson. 

A native-born Englishman, of experience in our own 
Far West, a trooper in the Cape Mounted Police through 
the Transvaal War, when I met him Jordan had been 
irovy hunting and trading all the way from the Boran 
and Turkana country along the southern border of Ab- 
yssinia away south far into German territory, and never, 
I will stake my head, a wrong-doer at anything save in 
venturing his life on long, lonely exiles far from all other 
white men in territory which the Government had seen 
fit to leave in its raw state of black occupation and to 
declare "closed" alike to traders, travellers, and sports- 
men, except under special license like mine and not 
easy to get, never a wrong-doer except as he may have 
engaged in just a bit of ivory poaching or in gathering 


wild rubber in "closed" districts, for which he has fallen 
under official ban. 

The chance meeting was fortunate alike to Jordan 
and to us. To us he meant the best expert advice on 
where to find elephant and how best to attack them; to him 
we meant a source of much-needed supplies, for which he 
never hinted a want but which we soon saw he lacked 
and were glad to be able to make him take. 

Himself a trespasser within the "closed" territory I 
was then in by courtesy of Lieutenant- Governor Jackson, 
we found Jordan accompanied by three warriors, superb 
big fellows, and a boy, all Lumbwa; with no better 
shelter than a grass hut of the sort natives soon throw 
together for a night's camp; with absolutely no food 
supply but native posho and a slender flock of sheep and 
goats he had saved from the German raid of his camp; 
unarmed save with two cartridges and an old, worn-out 
.303 rifle, dangerous to none but him who fired it; with 
no wardrobe but the brown cord shooting coat and frayed 
khaki shorts and puttees he stood in; with his right leg 
from ankle to knee raw of eczema (then and for months 
previously) for lack of proper dressing and of which he 
suffered unintermitting tortures without a murmur (most 
luckily I had with me some oxynol which soon gave him 
relief and had him nearly cured of eczema when we 
parted), nevertheless this man was richer far in hap- 
piness and in perfect content with his environment and 
lot, desperate hard as it might seem to others, than all 
the princes of finance put together, happiest, doubtless, 
for that the fine fibre of his mentality obviously held not 
even the most fragile film of greed or envy. 

So soon as he learned I was keen for elephant, lion, 


and a bigger rhino than the N'gari Kiti kill, he volun- 
teered his own services and that of his Lumbwa and 
Wanderobo subjects in locating them for me. Nor did 
he want nor would he accept any recompense; instead, 
had I let him, within the first week he would have stripped 
himself of his one available asset, his pathetically small 
flock of fat-tailed sheep and goats killing them for our 
table and trading them to natives for spears, shields, 
swords, and rare rhino horn knob-kerries, curios he 
knew I sought. Chided for his prodigality and improvi- 
dence, quick came the chap's philosophy. 

"Well, you see anything else would not be playing 
my game. As you find me here, I am living my life, the 
life that suits me. Here, somewhere, in a quiet nook 
of the African forest, I shall probably finish. 

"Money? It means nothing to me. I've made 
money, lots of it, in the past, and had no more good of it 
I found real value in than I get here. 

"I've been among the first in a dozen of the great 
African mining camps, but never once pegged a claim. 
Why? Not my game. I'm only a hunter and native 
trader. Enough! A bit short of trade goods now, as 
you see; not a scrap of 'Americani' or a single 'Buda' 
bead left, thanks to the Germans, but I '11 get on, right- 
oh! no fear. 

"Towns? More than a day or t\vo of any of them is 
hateful to me; 'doddering hermit,' I dare say some fools 
might call me, but I love my kind well as any other 
your kind, fellows with the nerve to cut loose and go it 
alone down here where even the thriftiest official has 
never yet ventured to lead his Askaris after hut tax. 

" Come along with me and I '11 show you such shooting 


as you never dreamed of elephant, rhino, lion, buffalo. 
Trek with me four or five days northwest into the Ron- 
gana River country, and I '11 summon my Wanderobo and 
Lumbwa friends to mark them down for us. I '11 show 
them to you, right enough then it 's up to you to get 

Travelling for weeks along and through forests we 
knew to be haunts of the Wanderobo; always compelled 
to be watchful for their dangerous pitfall game-traps; 
occasionally stumbling across their temporary hut villages, 
the only approach to a town these shifty, wandering 
hunters ever build, but never seeing one of them; knowing 
that travellers who have needed forest guides and have 
succeeded in surprising, capturing, and binding any of 
them, saw the awesome spectacle of creatures in man's 
image fighting as furiously for liberty as madmen, frothing 
mouths gnawing at their bonds like wild beasts; primitive 
creatures whose only earthly fixed assets are their bows 
and iron-tipped arrows, their rudely fashioned iron short 
swords and narrow-bladed hatchets, and their two fire 
sticks; their only food besides wild honey the wild game 
whose own supreme cunning and stealth they are com- 
pelled to surpass to enable them to make a kill with their 
short-range weapons; roving dwellers in chill high alti- 
tudes where their women and children go cold and 
a-hunger when they fail to fetch in skins and meat, - 
I expressed surprise and gratification that he could com- 
mand the services of these matchless trackers. 

"Wanderobo?" he replied. " Command them? Ra- 
ther! Why, man, I've lived alone and hunted with 
them for months at a time gone hungry with them 
when sudden shifts of the game occurred and their most 


dreaded spectre, famine, brooded over every hut; set 
their broken bones, dressed their wounds. Come to me ? 
Just watch them in a run. Only it may bother me a 
lot to hold them when they find two strange muzungu 
with me, for the Wanderobo are still wild and suspicious 
as a buffalo. 

"Of course, what with the pushing out of white 
settlements, shooting safaris, and consequent thinning 
out of the game, their forest life is growing harder and 
harder every year, notwithstanding in one season only 
six or seven years ago the Wanderobo of the upper 
Maggori traded the ivory of no less than four hundred 
elephant in Karungu and in German territory to Greek 

"Indeed, that little band, Labusoni's lot, are, so far 
as I know, the only group of the real Wanderobo elephant 
hunters still left. Many have already amalgamated with 
the Masai and are living in munyatas, among them even 
a son of Labusoni, the old medicine chief. 

"About eight years ago the most profitable industry 
of Mataia, chief of the warlike Lumbwa, was capturing 
Wanderobo and holding them for ransom in ivory and 
raiding the Southern Masai for cattle and women, until 
finally he had burned all the munyatas along and to the 
west of the Engabai and the Masai were all speared or 

"Old Koydelot, chief witchdoctor of the Masai, was 
one of the few who escaped to asylum among the Wande- 
robo. There his ' medicine' was soon found to be so 
strong he was able to win over a lot of Wanderobo, whom 
later he amalgamated with a few Masai fugitives and 
built the little group of munyatas between the Engabai 


and the escarpment, their flocks and herds chiefly the 
fruit of raids of German natives. 

"Only the old hard-shells, dyed-in-the- wools like 
Labusoni, have clung to the old forest life. 

"Labusoni? Eighty now, if he is a day, but every 
sunrise sees him off into the bush with bow and arrows, 
like the meanest of his followers, ears keen for the twitter 
of a honey-bird or the whirr of a bee swarm, shrewd old 
eyes scanning bush and grass for buck. Twice when 
nearly starved he has gone with his family to his son, at 
Koydelot's, but the monotony of munyata shepherd life 
was too slow for him, and as soon as he was fattened up 
a bit, back into the bush he trekked. 

"My word, but one of Labusoni's old-fashioned 
elephant round-ups was a sight ! 

"Of nights before such hunts he assembled all his 
men about a small fire apart from the huts, after all the 
women and children had gone to sleep. 

"Then Labusoni began to chant the elephant song, 
the Wanderobo war song, recounting the glories of the 
chase the craft and bravery of the boldest, the big 
kills they had made, the need of their women and children, 
the riches in beads and trinkets the ivory spoils would 
bring, the stout bow strings their great back sinews 
would furnish, the matchless shields and enduring sandals 
their thick hides, the capacious pouches their great 
bladders, the vast stores of fat with which Wanderobo 
love to smear the outer as well as the inner man. 

"On and on Labusoni would sing, voice rising shriller 
and shriller, until his wild henchmen were wrought up to 
a madness of which all eyes at the same time gleamed 


savage fury and streamed tears, limbs trembled like 
wind-shaken reeds, nervous ringers snatched sword blades 
from their sheaths, and the grim shadows brooding ubout 
the camp fire were set all brightly alight with the shimmer 
of brandishing blades. 

"Then, dropping his voice to quiet tones, Labusoni 
personally addressed each in turn : 

" 'Coboli! your father was no coward; in my youth 
he loved to dodge under the bellies of the Big Ones and 
stab them from beneath. If you are afraid, stay in your 
hut with your women ! 

" 'Njunge! your father got none but sons; if you are 
turned woman, go stalking little buck! 

" 'Minyatuke! if the thought of the thunder of the 
Big Ones rushing when they get your wind makes you 
tremble, go follow the honey-birds! 

" 'Sibibi! if the shrill screams of rage of the arrow- 
hit weaken your finger tug at the bow string, stay fleshing 
and dressing skins with the women ! 

" 'Weana! if the crash of falling forest to the charge 
of a maddened herd quickens your heart beat, give your 
women and children to a real man and go stab yourself 
for a cur ! 

" 'Surbube! for you it should be enough to remember 
you are son of Labusoni, who has missed no chance of a 
kill of the Big Ones since his youth, and who will be 
following them until his old carcass is tossed to the 
fisi (hyena), the common end of all our people ! ' 

"The effects of song and personal appeal were so deeply 
stirring of every savage instinct, that usually by the time 
Labusoni was finished several of his men were so stark 


frenzied mad, they were actually amuck, frothing at the 
mouth, slashing right and left with their weapons, and 
often many had to be seized and bound. 

"Morning come, cooled from the night's excitement, 
steady nerved of the past week's complete abstinence 
from honey beer and women always practised as prepara- 
tion for an elephant hunt, the band stole out of the forest 
in single file, silent as ghosts, led by Labusoni, to a camp 
three or four miles from the position of a located herd. 
At dawn of the following day, two scouts made a thorough 
reconnoissance and reported. If all conditions were 
favorable, Labusoni handed to each bits of 'medicine,' 
herbs and roots potential to stouten their hearts, built a 
rude arch of green boughs and then led his men beneath 
it to the chase, every ear strained for the first note of 
Ol Toilo, the luck bird : if heard behind them, a guaranty 
of safety for all; if to the right, or ahead, or unheard, a 
sign of a good kill, but with casualties ; if on the left, such 
a certainty of a poor kill and heavy losses of men that the 
chase was for the day abandoned. 

"Unless Ol Toilo forbade, on the column moved to 
near approach of the herd, when it was halted and 
Labusoni disposed his forces for the attack the old 
men holding the position they then occupied, the Hone 
(uncircumcised youths) being sent to the right of the 
herd, the elmorani (young warriors) to the left and the 
farther side. 

"In long grass the Wanderobo never attack elephant 
escape from attack by the wounded is too nearly 
impossible. When found so placed, the herd was fright- 
ened into a dash for the nearest forest by the yells and 
skin-coat shaking of the outer flankers, while within the 


wood their mates awaited the onrush, seventy-two-inch 
bows bent, thirty-six-inch arrows drawn to their poisoned 

"So, with keen-biting, empoisoned arrow flights and 
frantic yells and skin shaking, for a time the herd was 
turned hither and yon, from one line of flankers to another, 
sometimes was so held for as much as an hour within an 
area no more than a half-mile square, with individual 
duels here and there between the wounded and one or 
another of their enemies whom they had sighted and whom 
they pursued with such fury and cunning of attack that 
naught but a Wanderobo's wind and dexterity at dodging 
and tree climbing left the pigmy assailant any chance at 
all of escape. 

"Ultimately, of course, the herd broke through the 
attacking lines, and then the search for the dead began, 
and runners were sent to fetch up the women and children; 
and thereabout, upon and literally inside their kills, the 
tribe camped until every last fragment of meat was 
eaten, every bone cracked, and its sweet, fat contents 

"As high as thirty elephant have fallen in such a hunt 
within an hour to one attacking party numbering no more 
than forty men." 

February i was for me a day of remarkably mixed 
luck in the matter of shooting, for, after beginning with 
six clean misses of a splendid water buck I much wanted, 
at ranges from one hundred and twenty-five to one hun- 
dred and seventy-five yards, I finished by killing a gray 
Wildebeeste bull at six hundred yards and three kongoni 
at three hundred to four hundred yards, each dropping to 
a single shot. Two of the kongoni were left as lion bait, 


but with small hopes, for there game was too plenty to 
leave it likely they would touch a cold kill. 

All that night lion were heard about camp, two in the 
direction the kills lay ; but when I went out to them at dawn 
I found one kongoni eaten by leopard, and a mixed break- 
fast party of hyena, jackals, vultures, and marabout 
storks on and about the other, with lion tracks fresh in 
the blood but no sign he had touched the carcass. 

Wanting a better Wildebeeste than that killed the day 
before, after breakfast Jordan and I rode away across 
the level plain to a low range of hills south of us, and 
there in those hills we saw such a sight as I never shall 
see again. 

Come to the slightly rolling hillcrest and into a bit of 
open meadow perhaps two hundred yards square, to the 
east of us extended far as one could see an area of open 
scrub one could see into perhaps one hundred and fifty 
yards, apparently empty of game save for two Wildebeeste 
bulls that stood near its edge, one a fine one that later, 
when I got to him, proved to have a pair of twenty-four- 
inch horns, with a seventeen-inch spread. 

At the first echo of my shot, hell broke loose behind 
him, and out of the seemingly empty scrub poured a wild 
stampede of game in thousands Wildebeeste, topi, kon- 
goni, zebra, Granti, Thompsoni, impala, wart-hogs, 
giraffe, water buck, oribi all racing in mad terror at 
top speed and in an unbroken column twenty to one 
hundred beasts in width and solid as a charging squadron, 
a column that was ten to fifteen minutes passing us, first 
and last, that left our ears deafened with its thunder and 
that we estimated at anywhere from ten thousand to 
fifteen thousand head. 


Plunging northwest across our little clearing, their 
sleek skins flashing back to the early morning sun every 
bright hue Nature had clad them in, muscles heaving and 
rippling beneath their shining hides, it was the sight of a 
lifetime, and looked as if an all-comers' Marathon was on 
and the entire animal kingdom started in it. 

But, suddenly, while we stood in dumb wonder at the 
stupendous spectacle, marvelling whether the racing pro- 
cession would ever end, some scare or freak of the leaders 
turned them back south out of the bush into which they 
had disappeared, back into our clearing and straight 
down upon Jordan and me as if they were fiends hunting 
us to the death instead of mere fear-maddened beasts, 
probably unconscious of our presence. 

With neither time nor room to shift out of their path, 
there was nothing to do but stand and shoot into the lead- 
ers. And while only a matter of seconds, it seemed a 
lifetime before we had knocked over three Wildebeeste 
and five zebras and had turned the thundering tide slightly 
west of us. 

Then we caught our breath and stood another seven 
or eight minutes in silent awe of their numbers, their 
beauty, their grace and speed, their terror-fixed eyes, their 
heaving flanks and shrilling nostrils, as they pounded 
past us, their nearer line never more than ten to twenty 
yards from us, golden impala leaping high into the air, 
only to disappear back into the angry animal wave be- 
neath them like porpoise dropping back into a storm- 
tossed sea, zebra galloping low and swift, kongoni bound- 
ing now and then as if something had bitten them, grayish 
black masses of Wildebeeste shouldering everything out 
of the way, giraffe awkwardly side-wheeling along in giant 


strides and towering above the heaving mass like ambu- 
lant watch towers, pigs humping along as best they could 
and ripping viciously with shining tusks when too close 

It was not until the tail of the tide had swept quite 
out of sight into the south that either spoke, and then the 
imperturbable Jordan remarked: 

"Jolly close thing, that, right-oh! Looked like you 
and me for pulp ! Wonder if there 's another flood on and 
these beggars have heard Noah the Second's 'all aboard' 

Then he strolled away to finish two of the wounded 
and I over to the stiffening Wildebeeste bull, whose life 
had bought us this incomparable spectacle, heart-broken 
that I could not have had Radclyffe Dugmere beside me 
with his camera. 



TO avoid the terrific heat, after the rains stopped in 
the lower valleys, which began blazing down upon 
the Engabai plains shortly after dawn, we broke 
camp at 3 A. M., February 3, reaching the summit of Isuria 
at 8 A. M., and finding our donkeys safely arrived there 
with the posho we had bought in Kavirondo. Then we 
marched on to permanent camp at one of Jordan's old 
bomas, where he had spent a year along with his Wande- 
robo and Lumbwa, his cows, sheep, and fowls, trading a 
bit, shooting a bit, idling and musing a lot, chief of the 
native chiefs, happy as a king until down upon him de- 
scended a collector and party of Askaris on a raiding search 
for ivory they fancied he had but never found, when in 
disgust he slipped away to another forest nook, and 
lodged himself anew. 

Dawn found us out after eland or roan, but by noon we 
were back empty-handed apparently the game had 
shifted, for there was little sign about to the west of us. 

In camp we found Mataia, chief of the Manga 
Lumbwa, the stoutest vassal chief of Jordan's overlord- 
ship, with Arab Tumo, his foremost warrior, and two 
young elmorani, all come at Jordan's summons from their 
country, a full day's journey north. 

Jordan, Mataia seemed to worship no other could 
bear his gun or do him service, while with his own kind 
I soon learned no ruler was ever more despotic or cruel. 



Obedience to Mataia's command was instant or some 
ghastly punishment was administered. 

In Mataia's domestic relations, discipline was carried 
to a highly effective if not a refined art. 

If one of his wives brought him a great sufuria (cook- 
ing pot) heaped with food that did not suit him, he made 
her sit down and gorge the lot, followed by water in 
quarts until she was sufficiently near bursting to give him 
some confidence she might remember the next day how 
he liked his victuals cooked. If another stitched his new 
monkey-skin cloak badly, the least hint of her careless- 
ness she could expect would be a warm application on 
the naked stomach in the form of Mataia's heated sword 
blade; while if one were suspected of too deep interest 
in any predatory swain of the tribe, a slash from Mataia's 
razor-edged sword blade, landed wherever his large 
experience and fertile fancy taught him it was likely to 
hurt most, usually served to protect the imperilled family 
honor, at least temporarily. 

At 2 P.M. we went out again after game, led by Mataia, 
Arab Tumo, Arab Barta, and Mosoni as scouts and 
trackers. At 5 p. M., having seen nothing but topi and 
oribi, we were headed back toward camp, when Mosoni 
sighted a lone roan antelope. 

Instantly all of us dropped out of sight in the grass, 
and Mosoni and I began circling for the wind. What 
with the grass and thickly scattered mats of bush, stalking 
was easy, so that we were soon well up within seventy-five 
yards of the roan. With its head down and back to us, 
I could not tell whether it was cow or bull, and therefore 
I crouched awaiting a better view, well under cover from 
it. But just then out of the tail of my eye I caught sight 



of two splendid roan bulls off on our right to which, not 
having previously seen, we were uncovered and which 
were trotting up to their mate, who at the instant caught 
the alarm and with them bounded behind bush, all out 
of sight before I even got my gun to my shoulder. 

Then, while I was engaged in invoking backhanded 
blessings on this my second failure at a good chance of a 
roan trophy, out from behind a bush bounded a great 
roan beauty bigger than a water buck, and stopped 
broadside for a second's glimpse of us on a little anthill 
one hundred and seventy-five yards away, nose up and 
head turned to us, graceful horns sweeping back almost 
to its long sorrel mane, its red roan body glistening in 
the evening sun like burnished copper. Scarcely was he 
stopped, before I had a bead on his shoulder this time, 
and at the shot he went off at the buck- jump that usually 
spells a safe hit. A dozen bounds and he was out of 
sight, but, taking his trail, we found him down and stone 
dead one hundred and fifty yards from where he was hit. 
While the horns were disappointing, only twenty inches 
on the outer curve and six inches from tip to tip, it was a 
beautiful head, and I had my roan. 

Our camp near the old Jordan boma was one of the 
loveliest on the entire trip. Wanderobo-colored a bit in 
thought and habit, Jordan camped us in dense forest, 
near a cold mountain brook, forest so thick one might 
have passed within a few yards without seeing us, so 
thick of foliage that it shut out the heavy night dews and 
the burning midday sun, where it was warm of nights 
and delightfully cool by day, the bush about us alive with 
monkeys and forest guinea fowl, darker blue of plumage 
and better eating by far than the sort found on the plains 


After the experience of that camp, I never again pitched 
our tents outside a forest when one was at hand to shelter us. 

Nights about the camp fires with Jordan were never 
dull. Some incident of the day or turn of the talk always 
served to start him on some stirring tale of weird bush 
happenings. That night he was particularly interesting, 
notwithstanding a heavy electrical storm was on and we 
were tightly shut in my tent, with no light but the dull 
flicker of our pipes. 

"Wonder how long it will be before the last of all the 
strange animal and reptilian types native to Africa have 
been taken and classified?" he mused. 

"What do you mean?" I asked. "Are there many 
types left which have been seen but remain untaken?" 

"God only knows how many," he replied. "Why, 
it is only four years ago I killed my bongo and got the 
first perfect bongo skin ever taken. Before that Deputy 
Commissioner Isaac had gotten a piece of a bongo hide 
from the Wanderobo and had sent it to the British Mu- 
seum, but mine was the first whole skin ever seen by a 
white man, and not so very many have been shot since. 

" My word, but they are beauties! bright red as an 
impala, white of jaw, with nine white stripes over sides, 
back, and quarters, short of leg but heavier of body than 
a roan, with horns curved and shaped like a bush buck's 
but tipped white as ivory. Mine was a corker, nine feet, 
six inches from nose to tail tip, with twenty-nine and one- 
half-inch horns. And it 's hard to get, the beggars are ; 
never see them outside the heaviest forest or afoot except 
at nights or at dawn or in the dusk. Indeed, I only got 
mine after putting out a lot of Wanderobo for days and 
days to beat up the forest. 


"What did I do with him? Nothing, just nothing. 
Helpful Government did it all for me. A new species 
unincluded in the game license, when I got to the Eldama 
Ravine Boma, Collector Foaker seized skin and head, 
under instructions from Provincial Commissioner Hobley, 
and they were sold at public auction at Mombasa for 50, 
a little later reselling at 250. 

"Odd ones! Why, there 's the okapi, sort of a cross 
between a giraffe and a I don't know what perhaps a 
'what is it.' Hyde Baker killed two in the Congo coun- 
try less than three years ago, and one or two Germans 
have taken them; that 's all. 

"Then there's that infernal horror of a reptilian 
* bounder ' that comes up the Maggori River out of the 
lake the Lumbwa have christened Dingonek. And it's 
real prize money that beauty would fetch, five or ten 
thousand quid at least, and you bet I've got my Wan- 
derobo and Lumbwa always on the lookout for one when 
the Maggori is in flood. 

"Ever see one? Did I? Rather! Mataia, the boy 
there, and Mosoni were with me. It was only about a 
year ago. Mataia vows he has seen two since ; can't tell 
whether he really saw them or dreamed he did like as 
not the latter, for I know Dingonek were trying to crawl 
into my blankets for weeks after we saw that * bounder.' 

" How was it ? Well, we were on the march approach- 
ing the Maggori, and I had stayed back with the porters 
and sheep and had sent the Lumbwa ahead to look for a 
drift we could cross river was up and booming and 
chances poor. Presently I heard the bush smashing and 
up raced my Lumbwa, wide-eyed and gray as their black 
skins could get, with the yarn that they had seen a fright- 


ful strange beast on the river bank, which at sight of them 
had plunged into the water as they described it, some 
sort of cross between a sea serpent, a leopard, and a 
whale. Thinking they had gone crazy or were pulling my 
leg, I told them I 'd believe them if they could show me, 
but not before. After a long shauri [palaver] among 
themselves, back they finally ventured, returning in half 
an hour to say that IT lay full length exposed on the 
water in midstream. 

"Down to the Maggori I hurried, and there their 
'bounder' lay, right-oh! 

"Holy saints, but he was a sight fourteen or fifteen 
feet long, head big as that of a lioness but shaped and 
marked like a leopard, two long white fangs sticking down 
straight out of his upper jaw, back broad as a hippo, 
scaled like an armadillo, but colored and marked like a 
leopard, and a broad fin tail, with slow, lazy swishes of 
which he was easily holding himself level in the swift 
current, headed up stream. 

" Gad ! but he was a hideous old haunter of a night- 
mare, was that beast-fish, that made you want an 
aeroplane to feel safe of him; for while he lay up stream 
of me, I had been brought down to the river bank precisely 
where he had taken water, and there all about me in the 
soft mud and loam were the imprints of feet wide of diam- 
eter as a hippo's but clawed like a reptile's, feet you knew 
could carry him ashore and claws you could be bally 
well sure no man could ever get loose from once they had 
nipped him. 

"Blast that blighter's fangs, but they looked long 
enough to go clean through a man. 

"He had not seen or heard me, and how long I stood 


and watched him I don't know. Anyway, when I began 
to fear he would shift or turn and see me, I gave him a 
.303 hard-nose behind his leopard ear and then hell 
split for fair! 

"Straight up out of the water he sprang, straight as 
if standing on his blooming tail must have jumped 
off it, I fancy. 

"Me? Well, I never quit sprinting until I was atop 
of the bank and deep in the bush fancier burst of 
speed than any wounded bull elephant ever got out of me, 
my word for that ! 

"That was one time when my presence of mind did n't 
succeed in getting away with me from the starting post, 
and when, finally, it overtook me, and I bunched nerve 
enough to stop and listen, the bush ahead of me was still 
smashing with flying Lumbwa, but all was silent astern. 

"His legs? What were they like? Blest if I know! 
The same second that he stood up on his tail, I got too 
busy with my own legs to study his. 

"Gory wonder, was that fellow; a .303, where placed, 
should have killed anything, for he was less than ten yards 
from me when I shot, but though we watched waters and 
shores over a range of several miles for two days, no sight 
did we get of him or his tracks. 

"Ask Mataia, Mosoni, or the lad there what they saw. " 

I did so, through my own interpreter, Salem, and got 
from each a voluble description of beast and incident 
differing in no essential details from Jordan's description. 

Moreover, were it necessary, which I do not myself 
regard it, the strongest corroboration is obtainable of the 
existence in Victoria Nyanza of a reptile or serpent of 
huge size, untaken and unclassed. 


While in Uganda with ex-Collector James Martin in 
November last, he told me it was a well-known fact that at 
intervals in the past, usually long intervals, a great water 
serpent or reptile was seen on or near the north shore of the 
lake, which was worshipped by the natives, who believed 
its coming a harbinger of heavy crops and large increase 
of their flocks and herds. 

Again, in December, while dining with the Senior 
Deputy Commissioner, C. W. Hobley, C. M. G., at his 
residence in Nairobi, the very night before starting on 
this safari, in speaking of the origin of the sleeping sickness 
Mr. Hobley told me that the Baganda, Wasoga, and Kav- 
irondo of the north shore of the lake had from time im- 
memorial sacrificed burnt offerings of cattle and sheep 
to a lake reptile of great size and terrible appearance they 
called Luquata, which occasionally appeared along or 
near the shore; that since the last coming of Luquata 
was just shortly before the first outbreak of the sleeping 
sickness, the natives firmly believe that the muzungu 
have killed Luquata with the purpose and as the means 
of making them victims of the dread plague. Of the 
existence in the lake of such an unclassed reptile, Mr. 
Hobley considered there was no question. 

The next morning found Jordan and three of my 
porters down with bad attacks of fever. Butterenjonie, 
chief of the pure Masai on the Amala River, had arrived 
early on a summons from Jordan, and he and Mataia 
were sent to the northeast into the forest to try to locate 
the Wanderobo, while Outram and I went out on a search 
for eland, and three parties were started off twenty-five 
miles south to buy fowls and eggs from Korkosch, chief of 
the Mongorrori a longish jaunt to market, to be sure, 


but still the nearest the country afforded where such 
luxuries were obtainable. But the day proved a bad 
one all round. Outram and I came in with clean guns 
and Butterenjonie and Mataia returned without any 

By the sixth all the invalids were able to travel again, 
and we made a short four-hour march northwest, camping 
on the edge of a great forest from which the Wanderobo 
were seldom long absent, and again sent out searchers 
for them. Here we were well within the great basin rep- 
resenting the watershed of the upper Maggori. 

On the seventh we crossed the Maggori, climbed a high 
divide, and stopped on the Rongana, a tributary of the 
Maggori, at a point Jordan had chosen for our permanent 
elephant camp. 

Toward noon Mataia returned bringing four Wan- 
derobo, stalwart, wild-eyed fellows, sturdier than the 
Masai but less massive than the Lumbwa, all armed with 
heavy six-foot bows, knob-kernes, and swords shorter of 
blade and broader of point than the Masai, all carrying 
large leather pouches filled with honey, then their princi- 
pal food, and clad in skin cloaks of Masai mode. About 
our fire they stood for two or three hours, shifty-eyed, 
alert for wonders and against surprise, answering only 
in monosyllables. 

There was no unbending or evidence of moderating 
mistrust, notwithstanding Jordan's assurance my pres- 
ence meant no harm, until I had given an empty cigarette 
tin to one, an empty whiskey bottle to another, a sardine 
tin to the third, a pickle jar to the fourth, and to each a 
fistful of native tobacco and several pinches of black 
pepper to them munificence unparalleled that first 


cracked and then, finally, broke the thick ice of their 

Indeed, we were getting on fairly until I stupidly let 
them listen to the ticking of my watch. This nearly 
smashed our improving entente, for we failed entirely 
to convince them the watch did not hold a muungu (god) 
no Wanderobo had business with, nor were they again put 
at ease until they saw it safely shut out of sight in my steel 
clothes box and a saddle stacked atop of the box. 

I was particularly keen to have one of their camps 
moved over near ours, in order to get photographs of 
Wanderobo on an elephant kill, if we were lucky enough 
to make one Labusoni's group if possible, but he, they 
told us, was then a long day's journey away. So during the 
evening Jordan held a big shauri with the four. 

To bringing their women and children they were slow 
to consent, but at last agreed, three to go to fetch them, one 
to stay. Then again came a rub ; the man picked to stay 
with us objected that he had a lot of honey marked that his 
family needed; we would give them posho in its stead; 
basi (enough), and he had to concur. Then he was re- 
minded that he had at home a new toto he must go fetch, 
as his wife would have all she could carry in the shape of 
family gods and goods; we would send a porter to carry 
the baby ; basi , and he gave it up. 

That night, to my regret, I had to decree corporal 
punishment. In fact, no man can run an African safari 
and maintain order and obedience among his men without 
an occasional flogging with the kiboko, a heavy, flexible 
whip three to four feet long, cut from a single strip of 
rhino or hippo hide. 

Kindness the African native mistakes for fear of him. 


Gratitude he is innocent of perhaps because generations 
of Arab dominion, tyranny, and cruelty, which must have 
served largely to mould his character, never afforded him 
anything to be grateful for. If bred of a warrior race, he 
is apt to stick beside you in the face of a lion, elephant, 
rhino, or buffalo charge, but only because to run would 
stamp him among his fellows as a coward, unworthy to 
bear arms. But pull one, drowning, from a river at risk 
of your own life, or nurse him of wounds or through a 
threatened mortal sickness though you may, such are 
always among the first to shirk or desert you in time of 
need. Flog one soundly for his derelictions and you 
have an industrious, cheerfully obedient servant. 

With us that far bluff and threats had largely served, 
for I was reluctant to resort to whipping where it could 
be avoided, but at last I found my threats had worn 

The day's march was a very short one, and as early 
as 8 A. M. we had left our donkeys at the Maggori, no 
more than three miles back from our new permanent 
camp, and had put our headman with them to hasten for- 
ward the head donkey man, Mafuta, and his charges, for 
the day threatened rain and that serious injury to the 
posho and to several uncured head skins the donkeys 

Two natives serving as headmen I had already deposed 
for failure to keep our marching column safely closed up, 
and the then incumbent was Marini, a six-foot-two Men- 
yamwezi giant. 

Hours passed, but no donkeys came. Three times dur- 
ing the day I sent messengers to hasten them, the first two 
returning with word they were unloaded and resting at 


the Maggori. Late in the afternoon the third message 
reached Marini and Mafuta, that if they did not bring their 
men and animals on at once I would come back and kufa 
(kill) the pair. This served to the extent of fetching them 
into camp nearly two hours after dark with every load 
drenched, for meantime a heavy thunder storm had broken 
over us. 

There were no questions, for apology or excuse was 
impossible; the donkeys were fat and underloaded, men 
and beasts fresh of several days' rest, the morning's 
march to the Maggori only two hours, and yet both Marini 
and Mafuta came in sulky, glowering, rebellious, their 
men grinning over "doing" a muzungu out of a day's 
loafing as they liked. 

About the alternately blazing and spluttering fire, 
for the foliage above our forest camp was still dripping of 
the rain, sat a grim group of Wanderobo and Lumbwa, 
the fire glinting brightly from their ivory-white teeth as 
from the long blades of their straight-planted spears, 
slicing huge mouthfuls of meat from the roasting sticks 
before them with their sharp sword blades, and wolfing 
down the meat like beasts, apathetic spectators of and 
a fitting frame for the savage punishment necessary to 
prevent a general revolt. 

"Mafuta, strip and chine (down)," my interpreter 

For an instant Mafuta glowered rebellion, and then 
sullenly stripped himself of the tatterdemalion wreck of a 
brown cord coat that began and ended his costume, and 
dropped to the ground beside the fire, prone upon his 

"Marini, give him ten!" was the next order. 


Fancying himself well out of it, Marini handed Mafuta 
ten beauties, administered with absolute impartiality, 
five on either half of the buttocks, under which the cul- 
prit winced and writhed but uttered no plaint. 

Marini stepped back and Mafuta bounded to his feet, 
drew himself up, and saluted me with one hand while rub- 
bing with the other whichever place still hurt most, a 
smile on his face, and a cheerful " Thanks, bwana (mas- 
ter) " he really meant, an ugly rebel converted to a lot 
better opinion of his employer. Off he started, but only 
to be stopped. 

"Ewgoja (wait), Mafuta! Chine, Marini! Mafuta, give 
Marini ten of the best!" 

A shot would have startled the giant less, but down 
he lay and at him Mafuta flew, with a vigor that could 
have left no doubt in Marini's mind that Mafuta had 
become a wholehearted and sincere convert to the beauti- 
ful theory so few are willing to practise, that it is more 
blessed to give than to receive! 

Now come within fifty or sixty miles of Kericho, the 
nearest Government police post and mail and telegraph 
station, Outram started on the eighth on another try to 
get my mail, with nine porters to fetch new supplies, and 
followed by little yellow Pugge. Later in the day we 
missed Rollo, the big setter, and concluded he had fol- 
lowed Outram's safari. 

Outram off, Jordan hurried away the three Wanderobo 
to bring up their village and sent three Lumbwa, Arab 
Tumo, Arab Barta, and Arab Sendow, out on a scout to 
locate elephant. Then he, Mataia, Mosoni, and I started 
out on a search for rhino, which there are found with horns 
up to thirty-four inches in length and would therefore 


make my N'gari Kiti twenty-three and one-half inches 
kill look like a toto. 

For two hours we skirted the edge of forest, looking 
for the track of a big fellow returning from the night's 
feeding to his customary morning nap in the bush; but, 
finding no spoor except of some of moderate size, we spent 
another two hours within the forest, on the chance of 
sighting or hearing one worth while. 

And it is downright breath-holding work, nothing less, 
I believe, for even the coldest blooded man, poking along 
forest paths strewn with fresh rhino and buffalo sign, 
always in dusk like late twilight, sometimes along low, 
winding tunnels through tangles of vines, sometimes 
along high-arched aisles, always surrounded on all sides 
by an eight-foot, broad-leaved bush suggesting the rhodo- 
dendron and carrying great clusters of pale golden fruit 
that look like bunches of lemon-yellow grapes, whose 
dense green mass seldom opens you a view of more than 
five or ten yards' distance and makes most awkward 
going when one has to side-step a charge. There was a 
fascination in it I could not resist, and yet whenever I 
stepped out of the threat-holding shadows of the wood, 
back, half-blinded, into the light and warmth of the sun, 
I always found myself feeling much as I fancy a man must 
feel who might have the luck to find himself climbing out 
of his own grave. Perhaps older hands get used to it, 
but I know I never did. And even Arab Tumo, who for 
four hours stalked ahead of me silent as a graven image, 
himself the vanquisher, with no aid but that of his own 
good spear, of sixty rhino, I noted approached every path- 
turn crouched and muscle taut for an instant shift. 

Now and again the paths were widened into broad 
bed chambers shaped by the big fellows, always in the 


lowest, densest roofed bush where the floor was softly 
strewn with bits of broken twigs, again dropped steeply 
down to deep, clear, cold pools, richly tapestried round 
about with the pale green of their moss-covered rock walls, 
the baths rhino and buffalo love to cool themselves in 
after a strenuous night afoot. 

The first hour our only real sensation was a crashing 
stampede of buffalo that caught our wind before we 
sighted them and evidently did n't like it, for off to the 
left through the timber they raced. 

The second hour we struck the fresh spoor of two very 
big male lion and followed it from one path to another 
until finally they left the paths and bore away into thickets 
where we lost all trace of them. 

Then we quit for the day and jogged back to camp and 
a late luncheon, where we found the fourth Wanderobo 
had slipped away unseen, whether for his honey or his 
toto we could only guess. 

With no word come of our elephant scouts, we spent 
the next forenoon on the fresh spoor of two rhino, one a 
splendid big bull by his footprints, the other a cow. And 
it was an everlasting lot of sweet things the pair must have 
had to tell each other. For five hours we kept after them, 
rarely along paths, breaking through patches of bush 
or corners of virgin wood only to wind away at random 
through long grass, for all the world like two lovers blind 
to all but each other and seeking seclusion from their 
kind. Three times we heard them near ahead of us in 
the rhododendrons, but before we could finish a safe 
stalk they had moved on and on and on they so out- 
footed us until Arab Tumo decided they were moving 
range to the Cabanoa Hills, and that it was useless to 
follow them longer. 



SHORTLY after we got into camp at 3 P. M., Feb- 
ruary 10, at the end of an eight hours' tramp, five 
hours on rhino spoor and three hours returning 
from where we had abandoned it, our three elephant scouts 
came in with the good news they had located a herd of 
thirty to forty head on the Sambi River, west of the 
Cabanoa Hills and about twenty miles from our camp, 
probably ten miles south of the Government Boma of 
Kisii. They had seen only two big bulls, both good tusk- 
ers, but had heard the tree-smashing of a considerable 
herd they estimated as stated. 

So far, good; but the rest of their news was disap- 
pointing. The elephant were in the worst possible country, 
scarcely any forest except a few very narrow belts in the 
valleys, and everywhere else, on bottom lands, hillslopes, 
and summits, elephant grass and dry, brittle weeds twelve 
to eighteen feet high that enshroud one like a mist and 
make close stalking well-nigh impossible, and even more 
difficult to wallow through, and more exhausting, than 

Then, for me, more bad news; none of the Wanderobo 
had come in to my great disappointment and Jordan's 
bitter disgust. Even the prospect of a possible elephant 
kill and feast had not served to tempt the tribe from its 
forest retreat, whether from fear I was some sort of Gov- 
ernment official come to clip their liberty, or from the 



deep-seated suspicion these wild-wood rovers hold of all 
white men, we knew not. 

That evening I found myself rechristened by Mataia. 

Since his coming to camp I had observed him watching 
my every movement, following me about, intently study- 
ing my most trivial doings; why, I was at a loss to under- 
stand. But, plainly, in one way or another I was a most 
perplexing puzzle to him. 

At first his manner rather hinted disapproval, but 
after a three days' run of particularly good shooting luck, 
whereby I had killed several buck, all the camp needed, 
each with a single first shot and two at rather long ranges, 
he seemed to melt a bit. Then had come the two wearing 
days on rhino trails, fruitless, but persistently followed 
wherever they led. 

That evening I noted him having a long shauri with 
Jordan, the substance of which was later^communicated 
to me. 

"Mapengo" (Jordan's native name, meaning "false 
teeth"), Mataia began, "do all the very old white-haired 
men like Kimerije work as hard to get meat in their own 
country as he does here?" 

"Who the devil is Kimerije? What do you mean?" 
Jordan asked. 

"Why, the Bwana Mkubwa [great master], of course. 
His camp is full of food, and yet he hunts all the time for 
meat like a starving Wanderobo for honey. Was he a 
great elmoran [warrior] among his people when he was 

"I 'm sure I don't know," Jordan answered. 

."Well, / know," Mataia resumed; "he must have 
been. Why, most all old men won't do anything but sit 


about and eat and drink wembe, play with their women 
and children, and w r atch their sheep and cows. It is only 
the gray-heads who have in their time been big elmorani, 
terrors to their neighbors and sackers of big loot, who 
can't long content themselves about their huts and 
herds, but always must be slipping off into the bush with 
their spears, wandering prowlers to the end like old 

"Yes, that 's it not a doubt. Why, did n't you see 
him laughing to himself when the buffalo were smashing 
past us, and then again, after we heard the blow of that 
old rutting rhino bull and were slipping up on him ? Yes, 
yes; that 's the right name I 've given him, Kimhije." 

"Kimerije?" Jordan questioned. "Whatever does 
that mean in Lumbwa?" 

" Kimerije?" Mataia answered. "Why it means the 
elmoran who always laughs that 's Bwana Mkubwa." 

Mataia may have been right; perhaps I did laugh 
in the forest at the stampede of buffalo and at the rhino 
snorts, but if I did I now apologize to both buffalo and 
rhino, for so far as my memory serves to recall my most 
vivid impressions on those two occasions, irrepressible 
merriment was not one of them. 

Sunrise of February n found us already trekking 
toward the elephant herd reported the night before by our 
Lumbwa scouts. With us Jordan and I took a tent fly, 
our guns and blankets, a six days' supply of food, my 
boy Salem as cook, Mataia and six of his elmorani as 
scouts, and eight porters, more or less of whom we hoped 
to bring back loaded with ivory. 

Our course was northwest, crossing the deep valley 
of the Rongana River at the salt springs, an hour later 




fording the N'garoyo, thence through a corner of the 
Cabanoa Forest, full of rhino and buffalo that kept us 
dodging to avoid encounters which would compel us to 
shoot and might alarm elephant for our entire day's 
march was through country which always holds more or 
less elephant and which is swarming with them during 
the big rains. 

Altogether we were probably two hours in a forest 
none but natives could have wormed us through without 
using pangas (bush knives), leaving which Mataia led 
us up the slopes of the Cabanoa Hills, toward their crest, 
always in grass above our heads, in vines or bush, clam- 
bering through the reeds or slipping into the muck of 
swamps, sometimes for half an hour across dry, level 
stretches so trampled by elephant during the rains that 
we had to pick every footstep to avoid a broken leg, 
likely to come of slipping into some grass-hidden hole 
eighteen to thirty-six inches deep, stamped by huge 
pachyderm feet. And hot ? Well, rather! It was then the 
height of the dryest and hottest season of that region, less 
than a month before the big rains were due to begin, and 
from dawn to dark the sun poured down its hottest 
furnace rays out of a sky that pitilessly denied one the 
temporary shelter of a cloud, burning rays never tempered 
even measurably save occasionally by the smoke of great 
grass fires then burning all about us, the work of reckless 
Wanderobo and other native honey hunters. So that, 
while starting from an altitude of 5,500 feet at our Ron- 
gana camp and climbing more or less steadily toward 
the 7,ooo-foot crest of the Cabanoas, and while it was 
delightfully cool, almost chill, anywhere in the forest or 
even beneath tree shade in the open, one could not walk 


ten minutes in the sun before every stitch of clothing was 
as sopping wet as if he had come out of a plunge in water; 
and after an hour or two in the open, toiling across the 
heart-breaking, heavy going that ever beset us, the crown 
of one's head felt as if the sun were persistently boring a 
hole in it that must be nearly through the skull, for it 
hurt cruelly, and nothing relieved it but frequent liftings 
of the hemlet. 

For me, sound in wind and limb, it was bad enough, 
but for Jordan every step must have been torture. 
Indeed, throughout this hunt the man was a superb 
object lesson in patient, unwincing fortitude and iron 
will power. In his condition, I myself should have been 
hunting a hospital or an undertaker in quick preference 
to an elephant or any other game. 

Scarce two months before up from a long siege of 
black-water fever (his fifth attack, and most men do not 
survive the third), down twice within a fortnight of a 
heavy go of the plain garden variety of malarial fever 
few there escape, thin and weak in all but will, his ban- 
daged right leg improving but still more or less raw of 
eczema from instep to knee, on he plodded or raced from 
day to day with never a murmur, save an occasional 
whole-souled curse of a stumble or a thorn. 

Asked how he was getting on, always quickly came 
back a cheerful "Right-oh, old chap! Never better!" 

Fortitude! A fortitude that would have made me 
utterly ashamed to complain in his presence of any bodily 
suffering short of a broken neck, and I fancy one would n't 
have time to say much about that. 

Inflexible, indomitable, mandatory will, acting on 


fever-weakened joints, shrunken muscles, aching nerve 
centres, that was all that drove the man along. 

But then, if there are elephant in whatever realm 
Jordan's death-released spirit finds ultimate lodgment, 
out somewhere in the forest or the tall grass the big 
tuskers love will be the most likely place to look for it. 

About three hours out, Arab Tumo and Arab Barta 
were ordered to scout ahead, and bounding through the 
grass like scared impala, were lost to our sight after a 
half-dozen jumps. Any movement of the herd from 
their position of the day before must be noted, and it was 
not at all improbable the elephant might have crossed the 
crest of Cabanoas and be in our immediate front. Then 
complete silence was required of the little close-moving 
column, and on we moved as quietly as we could, climb- 
ing, ever climbing, slowly, for though the slope was low 
it was still enough to keep one's bellows busy. 

At length, after eight hours' marching, during which we 
had covered no more than a scant ten miles, ourselves 
worn to a frazzle, Mataia camped us in a thicket beside a 
tiny brook well up toward the top of the Cabanoas, beside 
a brook so newly born in the bush just above us that it 
had not yet found voice, its water clear as crystal and 
cold as ice. 

Down to and across the brook we had followed a 
deep- worn buffalo path, full of sign made that morning, 
and our camp was pitched literally within a big buffalo 
dormitory, where by long use they had worn out wide, 
smooth-floored chambers dimly lighted at midday by a 
few of the more curious sun rays that contrived to peep 
through the thick-roofing jungle. 


To tell the truth, had I been less tired, it is more than 
likely I should have tried to seek lodgings more conducive 
to sound, uninterrupted sleep where less likely, as a 
trespasser, to have a dispossession notice poked at me in 
the form of a pair of forty-inch buffalo horns. But, really, 
there was " nowhere to go but out" out into the pet 
lodgings of one sort or another of the Big Fellows, so we 
were about as well off there as anywhere. 

Not until nightfall did our scouts return with word 
the main herd had not moved from its previous day's 
range along the Sambi, but that four big fellows, probably 
the big bull scouts of the herd, were half-way up the 
farther hillslope, headed toward a pass whose trails led 
across our brook a few yards above us apparently the 
lead of a trek of the lot back to the Rongana salt springs 
they never long leave. 

It was a beautiful pickle we were in, a regular cul-de- 
sac, camped as we were virtually athwart the main 
elephant highway between the Sambi and their dearly 
loved salt springs, any move in darkness of our camp and 
its slender equipment utterly impossible without the 
probability of neck-breaking or eye-blinding, and no 
moon till near morning! 

But there we were and there we had to stay. 

Chill, almost bitter, though the night was, none but 
the tiniest twig fires were permitted, just enough to fry 
our meat and to boil our coffee and the men's posho- 
heaped sufurias. 

Absolute silence among the noisy porters was easily 
obtained by placing among them a Lumbwa elmoran, 
with orders to smash with his rungu (knob-kerrie) the 


first noisy mouth, orders he would have been delighted 
to execute on the first offender. 

Then, dead fagged of the tough day, and having 
arranged a night watch of the camp, with orders to rouse 
us quickly at the first sound of elephant, buffalo, or rhino, 
J ordan and I turned in, and never opened an eye till 
called by Salem at dawn, the buffalo having, obviously, 
lodged elsewhere, and the tuskers stopped somewhere 
en route. 

Before sun-up, Arab Tumo and Arab Barta were off 
ahead of us. Shortly thereafter, coffee and a snack 
gobbled down, Jordan and I followed. The wind barring 
us from the pass, we were forced to climb straight for the 
summit, two miles west of the pass, a smooth enough 
climb, for large areas thereabouts had recently been 
burned, but so steep it made tough, slow going. 

While we were still a hundred feet below the summit, 
our two scouts appeared upon it, stopping and resting 
upon their spears, silhouetted against the clear blue sky, 
still as ebony statues. Evidently their task was finished 
they had the elephant marked down. 

Come to them, they silently pointed far down below 
and off to the south of us, where for a time I could see 
nothing but the landscape. Presently, however, my eyes 
caught glints of sunlight off ivory, but that was all; the 
huge bodies were indistinguishable in the high grass and 
weeds about them. 

And yet, looking dow r n from our lofty perch on Caba- 
noas' crest, to right, left, and front of us rolled wave on 
wave of what looked like gently undulating short-grassed 
meadow land, the grass seeded and browning, slashed 


here and there with the rich dark green of the narrow 
strips of reeds and bush fringing marsh and watercourse, 
showing few trees and no bush outside the timber. And 
there at our feet lay a country so terrible that I could 
wish my bitterest enemy no worse fate than to be com- 
pelled to tramp five miles a day across it throughout 

From us the elephant were there about two miles 
distant, on the southern slope of the pass we had feared 
they might bring the herd through the night before, per- 
haps four miles from our camp. To get the wind of them 
properly for safe stalking, we must swing a good mile 
to the west of them. 

Down we started, down the steep, fire-blackened slope, 
as fast as we could go. 

For a mile, while crossing the "burn," we had open 
going, but then we plunged into elephant grass and weeds 
twice our height, into which everywhere Dame Nature, 
in one of her less kindly moods, had artfully interwoven 
a slender bush, half of whose stalks stood honestly upright 
and bore great clusters of lilac-hued flowers, while the 
other misbegotten half were bent and looped in the 
grass at every angle best calculated to catch a boot-toe 
and toss one a header or to enmesh a foot and wrench 
or break a leg. And once in it, one instantly lost the 
free control of all his functions but one, which happily 
was stimulated to abnormal capacity viz., the ability 
to tell the infernal stuff what he thought of it, and to 
tell it all. 

Just before we left the burnt area, the elephant shifted 
their position slightly and I had my first good view of them, 
three huge brown backs, one towering above his mates to 


magnificent height, evidently one of the rare prizes in 
these late day hard to find east of the Congo. 

The steep slope of the mountain ended in the narrow 
valley of the Sambi, there timberless, in places marshy 
and full of tall reeds and cat-tails, elsewhere dry save for 
great pools trampled all about by the Big Ones, pools 
where they love to pump up hogsheads of water in their 
trunks and shower themselves. 

Crossing the valley, we climbed its steep southern 
slope until, off an anthill, we again got a glimpse of the 
three, finding that they were near their first position and 
that we then fairly had the wind of them, though it was 
dangerously light and shifty. Then straight toward 
them we walked, due east, another half-hour until we 
reached the descent into a ravine on the eastern slope of 
which they stood, perhaps sixty yards from its bottom 
and one hundred and fifty yards from us. From our 
elevated position the backs of the two larger ones were 
plainly to be seen, with now and then a glimpse of the 
smaller one. The big one was indeed a giant. Once his 
biggest mate moved behind him and disappeared, while 
No. 3 easily hid behind No. 2. At intervals we had in 
turn first three, then two, and then only one elephant 
before us! 

There we stood on the hillside, in plain sight of them 
but beyond their short eye-range, for probably fifteen 
minutes, watching the great ears lazily swing back and 
forth, like idle sails flapping in light air, and listened to 
their rolling stomach rumbles that told of comfortable 
surfeit, advising under our breath whether to attack or 
wait till they made into the shade they were sure soon to 
be seeking, finally deciding to advance. It was a 


chance we could not afford to lose, for before us were 
three splendid bulls, the smallest one good enough to 
satisfy most men. 

After the first few steps of the descent we again lost 
sight of them. 

At the bottom of the ravine we passed a lone tree at 
least sixty feet in height, and then began a slow and the 
most silent possible stalk up the hill straight to them. 
But before we had gone twenty yards we realized that 
successful direct approach was utterly impossible get 
through the frightful tangle of grass and shrubs we could 
not without swishings and cracklings of the dry weeds 
their keen ears would be sure to hear before we could 
hope to sight them and get a shot, and the instant they 
heard us there would be a rush down to investigate the 
intruders or away to lose them. 

So back down the hill we crept to the tree and there 
stopped, puzzled what to do, until twigs dropping on our 
heads attracted our attention aloft, and there, perched on 
a high limb forty feet from the ground, sat old Mataia, 
gesturing violently that he had the elephant in full view 
and beckoning us up. 

"Up! up!" whispered Jordan. "Up quick, it's your 
only chance of a shot." 

It was twelve feet to the lowest limb and the main 
trunk was nearly three feet in diameter, but off from the 
main trunk, waist-high above the ground, grew a twin 
trunk slightly inclining away from its mate. But what 

"Can't do it, old chap," I answered. 

"You can; you can off with your boots!" came 
back at me. 


And such is the power of suggestion that in no time 
I had leggings and boots off, slung my .405 rifle over my 
back, and managed to swarm up to a painful three-toe- 
hold in the close V-shaped crotch. And there I am sure 
I should have been stalled had not Mataia come to the 
lower limb and reached me down his great black hand. 
That, however, served me well, and getting a firm grip of 
it I managed to wriggle my toes loose, when, with a joint 
tug, I was swung up to a good grip of the limb, and with 
Mataia still tugging, contrived to get on it. 

There I expected to see the elephant, but they were 
still invisible. So up another story I swarmed, that 
stretch easily ten feet, but with the same result. 

Meantime Mataia had slipped up to his first perch, 
still another twenty feet, the last twelve feet up a smooth, 
slender, perpendicular trunk I probably should never have 
negotiated without the aid of Mataia, but with his power- 
ful grip in mine, after a couple of swings entirely free from 
the tree (Jordan later assured me, although I did not 
realize it at the time) he hitched me up to where I was able 
to get a grip with my left hand and help myself up to the 
place he had been occupying. 

There at last, forty feet above the ground and bal- 
ancing myself with my feet on two wide-spread limbs 
none too strong for my weight, I found myself at last 
slightly higher than the elephant, sufficiently to have a 
clear view of the upper fourth of their great brown sides 
and a glimpse of their gleaming ivory. 

Meantime, Jordan, my gun bearer, Awala, and all 
the natives had swarmed up into the tree, Jordan stop- 
ping on the lower limb. 

My second gun, a 9 m.m. Mauser, was passed up to 


Mataia, within arm's length beneath me. Jordan had 
my double .450, which I should have preferred to use but 
that its sight was so fine I could not see it well when com- 
pelled to shoot into the sun or within the shadows of 
overhanging foliage. 

Just then the elephant moved directly toward us, very 
slowly, the big one in the lead, stopping thirty yards away 
and offering a perfect brain shot. Keen to get the pair 
I hissed down to Jordan, "Up, quick, and help make sure 
of both." 

"Blight it, I can't! Never could stand it up a tree! 
Fool to come here! Wish I was down!" he hissed back. 

"Well, well," I persisted, "can't you see them now 
can't you shoot from where you are?" 

" Just d d well can't, old chap," Jordan whispered. 
"Sorry! But this cannon of a .450 would kick me clean 
over into the Sambi. My word, but it 's hard enough 
sticking here now!" 

And then, just as I was advancing my gun for a bead 
on No. I's head, off they started again, and in two or three 
steps were beyond the range of view through the narrow 
opening in the tree foliage before me, completely hidden 
from sight ; and before I could make shift to another open- 
ing and get them again in range, No. i was about eighty 
to one hundred yards off, angling away from us, but mov- 
ing at a slow walk. 

Upon receiving my hard nose .405 behind his left 
shoulder, a useful shot ranging forward, No. i trumpeted 
pain and rage, stopped an instant, swayed, and then 
broke into whatever the elephant's pace is, faster than 
a walk, offering me a fair broadside. 

Frequently before my .405 had jammed in the mag- 


azine, the second or third cartridge not coming up 
level with the chamber a dangerous freak I failed to 
fathom or correct; and I should have discarded it long 
before but for its superior accuracy over any other gun 
and its hard hitting. For a fortnight it had been work- 
ing like an angel and dropping in its tracks nearly 
everything I pulled on, and therefore I had elected to trust 
it that morning. 

But by every ill token, tight and fast it jammed at the 
first shot, compelling me to pass it down to Mataia and get 
the lighter Mauser, and losing me invaluable time. How- 
ever, I was lucky enough to get another shot into No. i 
and one into No. 2 before they got out of range, up wind. 

Meantime Jordan had dropped off his limb and was 
tumbling through the grass, trying for an elevation where 
he could get a shot. Then, just as I was scrambling 
down, one of the Lumbwa pointed out two of the elephant 
on our left, evidently circling west for the wind of what- 
ever had pinked them, three hundred yards from my tree 
but only about one hundred and fifty from Jordan. There 
we each got two more shots, turning them back east 
again, out of our sight. 

Rapidly as I could I swung and slid to the ground 
to find that Mosoni, the Lumbwa elmoran who took my 
boots when I pulled them off, had followed Jordan and 
stupidly carried my footgear along. But just in the nick 
of time to save me from going quite insane with rage, 
Mataia called down and beckoned me to come up aloft 
again. Sure they must be returning, and having dis- 
covered, to my infinite surprise, that I had my climbing 
clothes on that day, up again I went faster than before, 
just in time to get in three good shots on a tremendous 


big fellow who was circling past about sixty yards south 
of us, swinging along at a fast pace, trunk up, sniffing for 
our wind. The last shot badly hurt and stopped him 
for a few minutes behind some bush, and then he was off 
over a hill again, turned west. 

And scarcely was this chap disappeared before bow- 
ling along came another and smaller one, closely following 
the trail of his mate. By this time, Jordan having gotten 
back south of the tree and atop of the anthill from which 
we had had our first good view of them, we each landed 
two shots in him, when he, too, passed on west out of 
our sight. 

By the time I had gotten to the ground and resumed 
the boots Jordan had sent back to me, I found myself 
alone with my gun bearer, Mataia, and Arab Barta, all 
of whom insisted that No. i, the giant I first hit, had not 
returned and must be down or badly sick to the east of us, 
holding that the two which had just passed us were the 
two smaller of the trio. However, preferring myself to 
follow the trail of those I knew to be hard hit, I sent 
Awala and Barta on a circle to the east for sign of the miss- 
ing elephant, and with Mataia hurried over to the trail. 

There was their spoor plain enough, both heavily 
blood-marked, bearing west for a mile and then swinging 
south, still side by side for another half-mile, when one 
turned west and the other continued on. 

Which to follow was a puzzle, for so far, through the 
long grass and over hard ground, I had found no foot mark 
to tell which was the large one, nor did I know what had 
become of Jordan. My choice was unfortunate, for 
after continuing on south another hour the trail crossed 
a marsh where I soon saw the footprints could not be 




those of the big fellow. So leaving Mataia to follow this 
trail, I struck off southwest to try to cut the other, wal- 
lowing through the grass, never with view of anything 
but sky and hillcrests. 

At length, when fagged to a finish by exhaustion and 
thirst, drenched with perspiration, not another mile of go 
left in me, just ahead I heard two quick shots from the 
big .450. 

Revived a bit and hurrying on, a couple of hundred 
yards brought me to Jordan and a dead monster, the man 
reclining limp aloft upon the beast's high-bulging side 
and looking nearly as bereft of breath as was the quarry, 
so dead beat that I thought he was going to roll off in a 

Presently, however, he regained his wind and I got his 
story. At the parting of the trails he had chosen this one 
and pounded along it as fast as he could, passing two 
places where the elephant had stopped and bled heavily; 
at length, come just there near to but unseen in his ap- 
proach, the beast caught his wind and charged him 
straight, but luckily landing the best possible turning 
shot midway of its sensitive trunk he was given the 
chance of a shoulder shot that pierced the heart, of which 
the elephant crashed to the ground and never again rose. 

The monster was so enormous I never questioned he 
was No. i of the three, until Jordan panted angrily, 

" Just look at him, the infernal blankety-blank blighter. 
Only one tusk, curse him!" 

And upon pulling away the grass in which the lower 
half of his head lay and finding the startling statement 
true, I cried, 

"Well, I am out of luck, then, for he 's no elephant 


of mine the three had full sets of ivory. Wherever 
did he come from?" 

"But he is yours, all the same," Jordan answered ; "he 
has four of your small 9 m.m. and your .405 in him, two 
in the lungs, one near the spine, one through his tummy, 
and another that must have tickled his liver. Look for 
yourself; they are all here. Beggar would have been 
down in another hour at the most, for good was groggy 
when he came for me. 

"His ivory beats me, too, for I'd have sworn all three 
had full sets; thought at first he might have broken it off 
to spite us, but you'll see the stump shows an old break, 
six inches from the lip. Hope it hurt the old bounder a 
lot! Just fancy! The infernal wasteful idiot! D n 
his eyes, anyway! Old enough to know better! Twelve 
or fifteen hundred nice juicy rupees stuck in his face, 
and he has to go and lose half of them!" 

But, disappointing as he was from the commercial 
point of view of an old professional ivory hunter, he was 
nevertheless such a gorgeous trophy as I had never dared 
hope for. 

His good tusk was 6 feet, 4 inches in length and 17 
inches in circumference at the lip, weighing 62 pounds, 
and clean kutch (prime) ivory at that, while the stump 
weighed 21 pounds, a total of 83 pounds, light enough 
to be sure, but in height at the withers (measuring perpen- 
dicularly and not along body curves) he stood 1 1 feet, 4 
inches, while his length from tip of trunk to tip of tail 
was 27 feet, 8 inches, his girth about the middle 19 feet, 
the circumference of his front foot 60 inches, and length 
of ear from base to tip 41 inches. 

And precisely in these measurements lies a record the 


oldest trekker across African veldt and highlands would 
be bound to feel proud of; for on my return to Juja and 
an opportunity to consult Rowland Ward's "Records 
of Big Game," I found that my old Monarch of the Ca- 
banoas is no less than the third largest elephant ever shot ; 
only two have equalled him, and they beat him one 
shot in Abyssinia measuring n feet, 8J inches in height, 
one shot near Wadelai measuring 1 1 feet, 6 inches, while 
only two are recorded of larger foot measurement than 
his of 60 inches. Thus, while modest in ivory, he takes 
third place in the record of the giants of his kind. 

Whether or not he was actually the real giant, No. i, 
for certain, we never learned, but surely he must have 
been. Awala and Barta returned late that evening and 
reported they had found nothing but the two blood spoors 
we had followed, while Mataia came in long after dark 
and reported that he had followed the spoor of the smaller 
elephant until from congealing, blood flow ceased, and 
shortly thereafter had lost it in a maze of other tracks. 

Lying about our fire that evening waiting for the 
safari, for which we had sent Mosoni, to come up, when 
I expressed my mortification at having to go on record 
as having shot my first (and perhaps my last) elephant 
from the security of a treetop, Jordan growled, 

"Well, you can just stow all your worry about that, 
old chap. Security? Hell!" 

"Why?" I asked, in real surprise. 

"Why? Why, blight me, but I'd rather face the 
straight charge of the maddest old tusker than try to 
swarm up that tree where you were! That 's one 'why.' 
Another you 'd have found quick enough if this bounder 
had got our wind he'd have caught the tree trunk aloft 


there where it 's slender and shaken you to a fall that 
would have finished you without further trouble on his 

"And me, look at me for a beauty of an intellectual 
wonder knowing blighting well I can't climb, and get- 
ting up there and having to stop just an easy reach for 
him to get a good grip of me to pelt you with! And like 
as not he 'd have tried it if he 'd gotten to us they 're 
cunning enough for it, my word for that." 

Our camp that night was a tough one, the worst of 
the entire safari, beside a swamp that provided the only 
water, a few yards above a big pool that was a regular 
watering of the main herd; but we lacked energy to seek 
a better. 

All our natives were ranging the next day until mid- 
afternoon, some on a search for the wounded, others 
trying to locate the main herd, but none were successful. 
Both Jordan and myself were still too tired and sore to do 
more than struggle to the crest of a high hill, about two 
miles from camp and to the west of the Sambi, for a 
look about with the glasses which proved as fruitless 
as did the work of our men. On all sides of us almost 
as far as the eye could reach rolled tall, sunlit billows and 
dim, shadowy hollows of elephant grass that may have 
held hundreds of elephant but to us showed none. 

Far to the west across the russet sea of browning 
grass tops, a broad belt of dark green represented the 
dense forest area where Outram and I had made our debut 
in pachyderm society a month earlier; and more likely 
than not the giant trophy that now lay powerless beside 
our camp was the same magnificent bull y/e were stalking 
when, all unwitting, we worked our way quite into the 





middle of his leafy harem and into two hours of rather 
unusual anxiety. 

On a few miles to the west rose the lofty heights of 
Toroni's rocky aerie, and nestling near the foot of its 
northern flank lay the new sleeping sickness boma and 
hospital we had found Deputy Commissioner Northcote 
building on the Oyani, while away in the south undulated 
the blue ridges that separated our "Looseandgiddy" 
camp from the lower valley of the Maggori River. 

We returned to our Sambi camp about three o'clock 
to find still unfinished the task of removing the elephant's 
four feet and cleaning them of all bone and flesh, and the 
cutting out of a four-foot square of hide from his ribs. 
In fact, the extreme difficulty of incising the tough hide 
anywhere with ordinary skinning knives was such as to 
leave it hard to realize how Carl Aikley, of the Field 
Columbian Museum, and R. I. Cunningham, working 
by themselves with no better implements, had succeeded 
at all in completely skinning an elephant in one con- 
tinuous performance; harder still to credit what is 
nevertheless the fact that they finished the work in 
eighteen hours. 

Immediately upon return from their day's scouting, 
our Lumbwa began a savage, wolfing feast upon the 
titbits of the carcass that lasted throughout the night. 
The huge, marrowless, but porous and fat-exuding leg 
bones were soon hacked out by the heavy short swords 
and sucked dry of their sweet oily contents, the rich 
stores of fat stowed fore and aft of the high bony central 
dome of the skull sacked and consumed, great hunks of 
meat slashed out and in a few minutes gobbled down, 
raw hunks of a size, whole, that one would swear must 


choke even the widest and most elastic python throat or 
surfeit the emptiest lion. 

Ivory-white teeth, set in jaws powerful as a hyena's, 
tore and disintegrated the tough, raw flesh as easily as 
civilized incisors and grinders consume the most tender 

And when, shortly before sunset, an abdominal inci- 
sion was made to reach the great masses of fat about the 
kidneys, an opportunity was given me for a photograph 
never before taken and a sight probably never before seen, 
unless by a professional elephant hunter. The moment 
the abdominal wall was punctured, high up on the ele- 
phant's side up out of the opening rose an intertwining, 
writhing mass of colossal intestines, each at least eighteen 
inches in diameter, all tightly distended with the gases 
of dissolution until, beneath the bright rays of the declin- 
ing sun, they reflected every brilliant and soft neutral 
tint of an opal, rose up and up, six feet or more above the 
carcass, ever slowly gliding and writhing, as if one had 
before his eyes a gigantic Medusa head crowned with a 
mass of close-knotted, tortured python a sight so 
weirdly ghastly it by turns impelled one to fly from it 
and held one entranced by its sinuous, serpentine move- 
ments and more than serpent radiance of brilliant varie- 
gated color. 

Nor, night come instantly the hurrying equatorial 
sun had dropped, like a lump of lead, below the horizon 
was more than the mere tough edge of their voracious 
animal appetite dulled; for directly the Lumbwa had 
staggered into camp, each with shoulders laden with the 
last pound of the coarse-grained red meat he could carry, 
live coals were niched from beneath Salem's bubbling 


pots, fires started, long sticks cut, and countless yards of 
flesh set smoking, drying, roasting. And there about 
their little fires throughout the livelong night crouched these 
gorging Bantu gluttons, creatures risen above the stone- 
age men that lurk like rude, hideous, hateful caricatures of 
humanity in the dim dawn of history, only the one short 
step gained by stumbling on the knowledge that bits of 
iron-stone reddened in fire may be beaten into blades 
trustier to kill than any wrought of obsidian or flint. 
There about their fires they lolled, ever stuffing meat away 
inside them, God alone knows where, and yarning of 
past kills of the Big Ones and like luxurious feasts that 
had served to mark the reddest red-letter days of their 
hungering, perpetually hungering lives; for the African 
savage knows no w r ant save hunger for food he may not 
always easily satisfy. 

The next morning found us still half crippled, Jordan 
with his poor game leg rawer than ever, I with arms and 
shoulders still so sore of my tree climbing that it was agony 
to try to level a rifle. But move \ve had to, for fires started 
by reckless Wanderobo and Kisii honey hunters were 
sending up great smoke columns all about us that, unless 
we hurried, might force us into wide detours from a direct 
return to our Rongana camp. Luckily the elephant 
tusks had by that tine loosened to an extent that enabled 
our men to get them out, after three hours' sharp work. 

About 8 A. M. I started Jordan and the safari for the 
Rongana, and then went off myself with two natives on 
another four hours' circle of the Sambi basin in hope of 
finding some trace of our wounded, which it seemed 
possible might be driven back upon us, if they were still 
able to travel, by the fires. 


But this scout proved as fruitless as its predecessors, 
and so, shortly after noon, I climbed the Cabanoas and 
began the descent toward the Rongana. 

It was a terrible day, the heat of the sun heightened 
by that of the fires we often had to skirt closely, the air 
suffocating with smoke and falling cinders that kept eyes 
streaming and throats parched and half strangled. 

About mid-afternoon, in a forest I chanced on a sec- 
tion of our safari which had been cut off from the others 
by a fire that had swept down upon them and cut the 
column in two, forcing the rear lot into a wide circle to the 
south to escape the advancing flames. In fact, had a high 
wind risen that day we should never have won through 
without more or less serious casualties. 

It was long after dark when I stumbled into the 
Rongana camp, black of the smoke as any Bantu, returned 
to the supreme luxury of a chance to take boots and clothes 
off and have a bath; for during the four nights of our 
absence the Big Ones, elephant, rhino, and buffalo, 
were so thick about us, and there was so much likelihood of 
a stampede through or a charge of our camp by some of 
them, that we had not ventured even to remove our boots. 

For Jordan these four days across the Cabanoas were 
near being his finish. I found him, arrived a scant hour 
ahead of me, flighty of a burning fever and gasping for 
breath from what seemed to be an acute attack of pneu- 
monia, that took four days of close nursing and about all 
the quinine, brandy, and mustard our scanty stores 
afforded to knock out of him. 



WHILE awaiting Jordan's recovery from the illness 
brought on by our elephant hunt on the Sambi 
River, Nabrisi, brother of the Wanderobo chief, 
Labusoni, and Bele, another of his men, came into my 
Rongana camp and brought me a lot of fine honey and 
Jordan a batch of lame excuses why the Wanderobo camp 
had not joined us as promised. Summed up, it was plain 
these shy forest folk were distrustful of the stranger. 

Nabrisi was such a smiling, gentle, kindly faced soul 
that, despite his black skin, semi-nakedness, primitive 
arms, and reputation as a reckless elephant hunter, it was 
hard to think of him except as a most amiable and cour- 
teous old gentleman. Bele, on the contrary, was an ideal 
type of the Wanderobo elmoran, middle-aged, severely 
dour of visage, gashed across the forehead with the scar of 
a sword cut deep enough to lay one's finger in a wound 
no white man could have survived; and never once dur- 
ing the week they were with us did I see the flicker of a 
smile on his face, never once to my knowledge when he 
was near did I escape a continual, suspicious scrutiny 
of my every movement from great eyes wide, unblinking, 
and glaring as those of a buffalo at bay. Round the camp 
fire at the door of my tent they lolled all day, he and 
Nabrisi, and beside it they slept at night, on beds primitive 
as the nuptial couch of Adam and Eve. Each scraped 
a shallow saucer-shaped area in the soft loam, cleared it 



of sticks and stones, gathered slender branches of a 
broad-leaved tree and stuck the butts horizontally into 
the earth rims about the saucer in concentric rings, until 
the centre held a thick mat of leaves upon which each 
stretched himself naked, with feet to the fire and monkey 
skin cloak rolled up for a pillow, with no cover from 
the chill morning breezes that for two hours before dawn 
always in those altitudes made me glad to pull up over 
me an extra pair of blankets. 

At Jordan's orders Nabrisi and Bele made a three 
days' circle through Cabanoa Forest and the N'gararu 
Hills for fresh elephant sign, but on their return they 
reported the country afire everywhere and the elephant 
moved west and north into the loftier Kisii Highlands. 

February 20, as soon as Jordan was able to ride, I 
marched the safari twelve miles west to a camp on Soiat 
Hill, near Mataia's house; and there Outram joined us 
shortly after our arrival, after a hard eleven days' march 
to Kericho and back, with a great mass of mail, the ac- 
cumulation of the last eleven weeks, and with New York 
papers of as recent date as January 9. The round trip 
this mail had cost was a trifle under two hundred and 
fifty miles, a longish jaunt to the post, but still our nearest. 

Nor was it altogether a welcome mail that came, for, 
while much remained undone which I had hoped to do 
before leaving Africa, it brought advices that left me no 
alternative but to cut short my safari and book for an 
early sailing from Mombasa for New York. Otherwise 
it had been my hope to swing north from Kericho to 
Eldama Ravine, down Molo River to Lake Baringo for 
greater Kudu, thence east down the Guaso Narok River 
past Rumuruti Boma, thence round the north and east 


flanks of Mt. Kenya, and back through Ft. Hall to 
Nairobi, a circle on which I should have been pretty sure 
to get the two more elephant to which I was entitled 
under my license. 

And the abandonment of the trip around Kenya be- 
came to me all the more regrettable when, the following 
evening, porters returned from a trip back to our old 
Rongana camp to fetch up several loads we had been com- 
pelled to leave behind (safely walled up, I had believed, 
in Mataia's tall and stoutly built cattle boma) with advice 
that hyena had scented out and stolen two of my elephant 
feet. Since three of the porters were men we had been 
compelled to chine under the kiboko a few days before, 
I did not believe them, but fancied they had thrown away 
the feet out of revenge. So the same night I forced them 
to march back under guard of Arab Miner and Mosoni, 
two of the Lumbwa spearmen, with orders to give them 
no rest until the feet or proofs of their destruction were 
found. Late the next afternoon the two Lumbwa came 
back, spear-prodding ahead of them the sullen porters, 
bringing me a double handful of fragments of the great 
horny elephant toe nails, plainly showing marks of hyena 
teeth. The feet had been completely cleaned of all bone 
and meat, "cured" by rilling them with ashes to absorb 
and neutralize the fats, until nothing remained but the 
hard dry leg hide, flinty soles, and horny nails; and yet, 
incredible as it may seem, every scrap had been eaten 
by these insatiable scavengers except the fragments 
brought me. Most fortunately, however, they had taken 
one front and one hind foot and thus had spared me one 
of his superb front sixty-inchers. 

Noon of the twenty-second found us fourteen miles 


north of Soiat, after a hard six hours' march toward 
Kericho over timberless long-grass country so steeply, 
deeply rolling that every two or three miles included a 
seven hundred to eight hundred sharp ascent and descent. 
There we were met by Arab Tumo, who had left us a few 
days earlier, with word there were great herds of elephant 
within a mile of his house and only four miles from our 
camp, but in long-grass country where it would be almost 
impossible to get at them. And no more had we gotten 
the news than down upon our stream-side camp from the 
southwest marched a big safari which we soon learned 
was that of Lady Colville and her son. Approached, 
young Colville and his safari leader inquired if we had 
seen elephant, to which we diplomatically replied that 
we had men out hunting them. Then they told us they 
had been out for three months, first in the Laikipia 
country to the north and later hereabouts, but had seen 
no elephant, and then were marching for Limirick Plains 
in the eastern Sotik country for work on a general bag. 
However, since they camped a scant mile beyond us, we 
fancied they were as foxy as we were had news of the 
herds Tumo had reported and were figuring to strike 
them before we could, which of course set us plotting to 
get in ahead of them. Toward mid-afternoon our chance 
came, when a heavy grass fire swept between our camp 
and theirs, its thick smoke clouds drifting south before a 
strong north wind. 

Quickly loading a few men with food and blankets 
and leaving all our tents standing, we slipped away in 
the shrouding smoke and got well across the first tall 
summit before the smoke lifted. Later we learned our 
precautions had been entirely unnecessary, for we were told 


by the Sotik boma chief that the same morning the 
other safari had sighted the main herd, and had then 
retired because, they claimed, they saw none but small 

That night we camped on a steep hillslope near Tumo's 
and within a few hundred yards of where the elephant 
had been feeding earlier in the day. There we were 
about midway between the Sotik and Kisii bomas and 
in the extreme northeast corner of the range of the big 
Kisii herd. 

It was an elephant- grass country everywhere, but 
even worse to work in than the Sambi, for the hills were 
much more precipitous, there were absolutely no trees 
to climb for a look about, and every valley was a broad, 
boggy? reedy swamp trampled by elephant into pit holes 
until nearly impassable to us. 

At dawn we were off. In the first swamp we struck 
we jumped two rhinos, but they scurried away through 
the reeds. Two hours later, from an obligingly placed 
anthill upon a tall summit, upon a lower shoulder of the 
same hill about a half-mile below us we caught a glimpse 
of fourteen elephant, while across a deep valley and swamp 
and on a hillside probably two miles away, appearing 
and disappearing brown patches and glints of ivory 
showed us a great herd of anywhere from one hundred to 
two hundred head. 

Had the day been clear the sight would have been 
superb, well worth the entire trip from Nairobi, but the 
air was so hazy with smoke the elephant looked like dim 
spectral shapes rising from the slope of a mighty billow 
of a faintly moonlit sea. 

Already the sun was getting very hot, for neither 


clouds nor smoke seemed materially to lessen the intensity 
of the equatorial sun rays and both herds were on the 
move for cool quarters for their midday nap, headed, one 
lot north and the other south toward a broad swamp 
that lay eight hundred feet below them in a valley trend- 
ing west toward the Kuja. 

They actually seemed a gift, did those elephant or 
rather a chance at one or two fine bulls of the herd seemed 
a certainty ; for while we could not follow directly on the 
spoor of the nearer herd without giving them our wind, 
a leisurely wide circle to the west and descent to the 
swamp, and a careful stalk up it through its tall rushes 
or along the slopes that dropped steeply to its margin, 
seemed sure to bring us to close range of the united herds, 
floundering about among the lily pads and reeds, shower- 
ing themselves with their trunks or boring into the dark 
green masses of the high, dank marsh growths for shelter 
from the sun. 

So off the anthill we stepped and down the precipi- 
tous hillslope started, heading northwest, the tall, wiry 
Lumbwa, Arab Tumo the rhino slayer, in the lead, I 
next, and the rest trailing along behind. Of course, the 
moment we descended from the anthill the ghastly gray 
leaves and stalks of the tall elephant grass closed about 
each tight as a winding sheet, and shut out view of every- 
thing except the patches of sky that now and then appeared 
through the rustling russet roof above our heads. Each 
step was like passing from one tight-shut chamber to 
another, tight-shut as a sodded grave, for the gray stalks 
were ever springing up behind one with a sinister, ma- 
licious suddenness and vigor and with rasping swishes 
that sounded in my ears like a hoarse, gloating, trucu- 


lent whisper, "You are ours, ours, OURS! Forever are 
you ours!" 

Indeed, the fevered imagination of the ^worst dying 
sinner could never people the dusky shades of Hades with 
more terrible shapes than the horrors and perils one knows 
must always be crowding close about him while plunged 
into that worst of all terrestrial infernos, a region of ele- 
phant grass. They are there all about you, scores of the 
predatory, with any of whom a chance meeting means 
your death or theirs. At your very feet a poisonous 
cobra or mamba may be coiling to give you a coup-de- 
morte; within reach of your rifle muzzle a great python 
may be suppling his mighty folds for the toss of a crush- 
ing hitch about your neck; rhino, buffalo, lion, or ele- 
phant love and always haunt such convenient ambush, 
and may at any instant catch your wind and be literally 
upon you before you have time to throw your rifle to 

Indeed, no form of duel to the death, fought out in 
utter darkness, could hold more terrors to try the stoutest 
heart than a man adrift in a sea of elephant grass finds 
himself a prey to. 

Nor were we that day to be without our bit of expe- 
rience of the hostile activities of its dangerous denizens. 

While modest and refusing to talk at all of his own 
exploits, the chief Mataia and other Lumbwa repeatedly 
assured me that no less than sixty rhino had fallen to 
Arab Tumo's spear thrusts, each killed by him alone in 
single combat. While the story appeared incredible, 
large color of truth was lent it by an incident of the 
. While about half way down from the summit to the 


swamp, with Arab Tumo marching ahead of me, and, 
although no more than six feet in advance, quite out of 
my sight, suddenly I heard just beyond him the swish 
and crashing of some mighty body, and jumped forward 
to Arab Tumo just in time to see a giant rhino, which had 
been crossing our line of march directly in his front, start 
to swing for a charge up our line, great head shaking 
with rage, little pig eyes glaring fury. 

It was all over in a second, for when I reached Tumo 
they were in arm's length of each other, he crouched with 
spear shortened, and, in the very second of the rhino's 
swing to charge, with one bound and mighty thrust he 
drove his great three foot six inch spear blade to entry 
behind the left shoulder, ranging diagonally through the 
rhino's vitals towards his right hip, and burying it to the 
very haft! 

Followed instantly a shrill scream of pain, a gush of 
foam-flecked blood that told of a deadly lung wound, and 
then the monster wheeled and lurched out of our sight 
down hill at right angles to our course, Tumo's spear 
still transfixing him. 

So suddenly sprung and so fascinating was the scene, 
so like a single-handed duel of the old Roman arena 
between two raw savage monsters of the African jungle, 
biped against quadruped, that it never occurred to me to 
shoot, although I might have chanced a snapshot over 
Tumo's shoulder. 

And there Arab Tumo stood quietly smiling, his pulse 
apparently unquickened by a single beat, signing for 
permission to follow and recover his spear! 

About an hour later, just as we were about to enter 
the swamp, he rejoined us with the fragments of his spear, 


the blade broken free of its long-pointed iron butt, which 
was bent nearly double by some wrench in the ground 
the rhino had contrived to give it to free his vitals of the 
gnawing blade! And, once free of the spear, on he had 
gone Tumo had not seen him again. 

Of the elephant we had heard nothing, and, of course, 
had seen nothing since leaving the mountain top. But 
if they had held their course, as we felt sure they had, we 
should there have been about a half-mile below them. 
So we began a cautious stalk up swamp, silent as we 
could make it, for they might be moving toward us. 

Most of the way we had to wade along the edge of 
the swamp, sometimes jumping, sometimes slipping into 
pot holes up to the middle, for everywhere the Big Ones 
had been trampling. Nor did the water matter, for in 
elephant grass one never gets a breath of breeze and when 
we had reached the swamp we were as wet as if we had 
rolled in it. Both to north and south we found the 
swamp lined with heavy thorn bush that did not show 
above the heavy grass tops, but with stems thick as one's 
wrist, utterly impenetrable except along an elephant 
path or where occasionally they had trampled it into a 
tangled springy mattress over which we could occasionally 
pick our way, bobbing up and down as if on a spring 
board, five or six feet above the ground. 

On we toiled and yet on, expecting every step to sight 
the gleam of ivory or a flapping ear, to hear a "tummy" 
rumble or a trumpet, on, for three weary hours, until we 
had thoroughly scouted the swamp to its head only 
to find that by some ill chance both herds had swerved 
elsewhere, probably northeast; either that or they had 
doubled in behind us as we descended the mountain. 


It was absolutely heartbreaking, but there was nothing 
to do but drag ourselves to the crest of the nearly per- 
pendicular hill that rose seven or eight hundred feet to the 
northeast above the top of the swamp, in hope of cutting 
their spoor or sighting them from the summit. 

It was like swarming up a giant Gothic roof, first bat- 
tling for a bit of opening in the grass and bushes and then 
grasping grass and weeds and pulling ourselves up into 
it, labor so exhausting and taxing on our lungs we were 
over two hours making the ascent. And, once come there, 
we soon found our work had been for naught ; neither on 
the summit nor on the slopes could we find an anthill; 
nothing could we see but the sky and the hell of weeds 
that shut us in. Nor was there another ounce of energy 
left in us, for it was then at least an hour past midday and 
we had been marching and stalking since dawn, eight 
hours or more, through the most laborious going, I be- 
lieve, the entire world affords. 

Then to make our situation worse, our water bottles 
were empty; in our keenness to get to the elephant we had 
forgotten to fill them before leaving the swamp. So, after 
sending three Lumbwa off to try to find the elephant and 
two more to fetch up our camp to the margin of a swamp 
we knew must lie at the bottom of the valley to the east of 
us, we cut with our knives little chambers among the grass 
roots and into them crawled, and there lay sheltered from 
the direct rays of the sun for three hours, until our Lumbwa 
returned with word the elephant were gathered in a swamp 
three miles northeast of us, from which they might be 
moving back toward evening past or across a big open 
"burn" that lay a mile below us. 

About 5 P. M. we got down to this "burn," and shortly 


thereafter our safari reached us and we there pitched 
camp, among some anthills, from which we could get a 
bit of a view about. But nothing did we see, until, just 
at dusk, our watch reported two big bulls about a thou- 
sand yards away, heading straight for our camp. Too late 
to gain anything by trying to go out after them in the 
gathering darkness, our fires were extinguished, Outram 
stopped in camp, Jordan took stand two hundred yards 
to the east, and I the same distance west of camp on the 
chance the bulls might come smashing along w r ithin range. 

And there on his post in the moonless, murky night 
and down among the soft, gray-black ash of the newly 
burned herbage, each crouched with ready gun till near 
midnight, when, having heard nothing, I stumbled into 
camp, called in Jordan, and we had the fires rekindled and 
rolled up in our blankets. 

Such is the luck of the game. Although they should 
not have gotten our wind, perhaps they did. Anyway, off 
they had turned, a scant three hundred yards from camp, 
off into the southwest, had those two bulls, and after them 
had softly trailed the mighty herd, W T C soon the next morn- 
ing learned, two hundred or more strong. And along the 
broad track they had trampled we followed until, near 
noon, come to a great "burn" across which we could see 
for five or six miles, I realized they were settled down to 
a longer trek than I had time left to follow them on, for 
the next day at the latest I must press forward on the 
march through Kericho Boma to Lumbwa Station on the 
Uganda Railway. 

Thus and there, in the Kisii Highlands, virtually ended 
my safari and shooting "In Closed Territory." 

A hard six days' march got us across the Sessi and 


Isogu Rivers, two mountain torrents that within a fort- 
night the "big rains" would make impassable, by any 
means, for weeks, and into Lumbwa Station. It was 
a toilsome week over steep, rolling, lofty mountain con- 
tours, relieved only by a most delightful night at Kericho 
Boma, where, in my host at a most capital dinner, Deputy 
Commissioner L. A. F. Jones, I met a man who knew so 
many of my home club mates it almost seemed as if I 
were dining before an open window overlooking Madison 
Square of a softly sibilant May night when the birds are 
love-making in the scant shelter of the young leaves. In 
stalwart Angus Madden, commanding the Boma Askaris, 
I found a ripping Irishman with a heart his big body 
must have vast trouble holding and a brogue almost as 
rich as the wit it adorns; and in Bryan Brooke I came to 
know a giant, brawny young Scot, in whom generations 
of the gentlest breeding have contrived to engraft the 
simpatia and imagination of a poet upon a warring, ad- 
venturous spirit that no influences can serve to long hold 
away from the wilds. 

Then came Lumbwa the railway after a total 
safari trek, what with marching and shooting, that cov- 
ered something over twelve hundred miles; the entrain- 
ing of my trophies and myself for Nairobi, and the leav- 
ing dear old Outram (quite the best camp mate of all the 
many I have known, and that 's saying a bit, for the 
trials and vicissitudes of camp life soon show dissonant any 
human chords not atuned true) to march the safari 
back to Juja. 


FOR the American press in general, Theodore Roose- 
velt's shooting trip in East Africa has served 
chiefly as a convenient subject of more or less 
broad jest. Few at home outside the circle of his own 
family and closer friends have taken it seriously, except 
the more zealous members of the Society for the Pre- 
vention of Cruelty to Animals, who, to the number of 
some thousands, have joined in petitioning him to look 
but not to touch to abstain from slaughter of their 
cherished (and usually rightly enough cherished) wards. 
Not one in a million has the faintest conception of what 
his undertaking really means or of the actual perils in- 
separable from it. 

Compared to a wounded Cape buffalo, lion, leopard, 
rhino, or elephant, a stricken moose or even a maddened 
grizzly is child's play. Of infinitely stronger vitality, 
harder to kill, and possessed of an infernal cunning and a 
speed of attack and persistence in pursuit, are these African 
Big Ones, that make them far and away the most dan- 
gerous game in the world, with the single exception of 
the Asiatic tiger. 

From the hour Mr. Roosevelt starts on safari and goes 
under canvas on the Kapiti Plains until, in his descent 
of the Nile, he has passed the temptation of a final run up 

* Written aboard 5. S. Melbourne of the Cie Mesageries Maritimes, cleared 
from. Mombasa, B. E. A., March 29, 1909, for Marseilles. 



the Sobat River, he literally carries his life in his hands, 
a pawn easy of annexation to any of the many predatory 
types of beasts and reptiles that swarm in jungle and in 

Nor is it his wounded he alone has to be alert for. 
The struggle for existence in the often densely over- 
crowded animal kingdom of Central Africa has taught 
many types the strategical value of instant attack the 
moment an enemy is sighted and all are their enemies 
they fancy they can make their prey. 

Rarely does a lone buffalo bull lose a chance at a man, 
and he makes a straight, furious charge if he thinks he is 
sighted, or, if unseen, a wide detour to close ambush along 
one's path and a dash at short range it is extremely dif- 
ficult to stop or escape. 

Most often the rhino charges the moment he scents a 
man, usually, I believe, from primary motives of curi- 
osity, in fact charges about any and every thing except 
elephant, from which he flies in mortal fear; but it is none 
the less necessary to do some straight shooting or to execute 
a series of amazingly quick sidesteps. 

At any moment a man traversing long grass or bush 
may come upon a lioness and cubs, at no more than arm's 
length, and lucky indeed he if she is not instantly upon 

Any night his tent may be invaded by a hungry man- 
eater who has stolen past drowsing Askari camp sentries, 
and his spine be crushed under its favorite neck grip 
before even the approach of peril is suspected it has 
happened often enough in the past and often will so happen 

Out of any bunch of longish grass the wide-hooded 


head of a black (blue-black) cobra may rise threatening 
him and that's no good place to stay; or a sluggish 
puff adder may lazily await until he is in easy reach of its 
favorite backward stroke; or a python may toss a half- 
hitch of its giant coils his way that few get free of once 
it has enfolded them. 

And then there are the fevers so many fall victim to, 
from plain malarial to "tick fever" (spirillum) and " black 
water," that one is often years getting wholly rid of where 
they don't begin by ridding the earth of him, and the 
awful spectre of the sleeping sickness that is now claiming 
white victims with growing frequency. 

Overdrawn? Exaggerations, these? No; not by a 
hair's breadth; just types of common incident of the sort 
that, sooner or later, are reasonably certain to be handed, 
in a more or less mixed job lot, to invaders of the open 
veldt and bush of Central Africa. 

It is a country and a life in which a man untrained in 
taking care of himself against any and all comers, un- 
inured to confronting deadly peril with steady nerves, 
is sure to have more frights than fun. 

Indeed, any man who is not a quick, cool-headed, and 
accurate rifle shot is a fool to go after African big game. 
To be sure not a few such dilettanti sportsmen have so 
gone, and have returned not only unscathed but with 
handsome bags of trophies; but alike for their own per- 
sonal safety and for the major part of their fine collections 
of big game specimens they remain indebted to the 
straight shooting of one or another of the splendid little 
group of professional safari leaders, highly trained expert 
hunters, like Cunninghame, Will Judd, or Tarlton. The 
two former men for years made their rifles win them 


handsome tribute in ivory and in skins, who, accus- 
tomed daily to stake their lives upon the accuracy of 
their aim, one might fancy possessed of iron nerves 
capable of meeting any situation without a materially 
quickened heart-heat. But the fact is they know the 
game so well they are ever keenly alive to its hazards. 
Within ten yards of a wounded rhino bull in thick bush, 
I have myself seen Will Judd's cheeks go livid white as 
the palor of death, but that it was a fighting palor his 
blazing, red-brown eyes and gripping jaws left no doubt 
of, palor come of every nerve and muscle held under 
such high tension for instant action that the veins were 
made to pour their ruby blood back into deep arterial 

And Theodore Roosevelt himself knows so well what 
he is going out against must so know it as an intimate 
of Sir Harry Johnston, F. C. Selous, and others justly 
famous for the last quarter-century for their work and 
sport in Central Africa that the American public can 
be quite sure he goes from a sheer love and lust of bat- 
tling that even the perpetual bitter contests against almost 
overwhelming odds that in history will serve to most 
strongly mark and distinguish his administration of the 
nation's affairs, has left unsatisfied. 

Seven of the last ten months it has been my privilege 
to pass in Central Africa I have spent on safari in British 
and German East Africa and in Uganda, shooting. In 
that time I have covered most of the country Mr. Roose- 
velt will shoot over, excepting Mount Kenya and the 
sections of his homebound journey between the Victoria 
Nyanza port of Entebbe and the Nile port of Gondokoro, 


and much of the "closed territory" along the German 
border which he is not likely to visit. 

As guest of Wm. Northrup McMillan, who will be the 
principal host of Mr. Roosevelt during his stay in Africa, 
it has been my very great privilege to have at my com- 
mand the services of his highly trained staff of Somali 
shikaris, cooks, syces, and mess boys, men who have been 
with Mr. McMillan six to eight years, on all his expedi- 
tions through Abyssinia, along the Blue Nile and the 
Sobat and in Somaliland, and all of whom have been 
placed at the disposal of Mr. Roosevelt. 

While doubtless in time an equally able staff might be 
assembled, no other such capable, organized group of native 
hunters and camp servants exists in Africa to-day. And 
warrior bred are they all, even down to the mess "boys," 
men trained in their youth on the sandy, arid plains of 
Ogadan, to run elephant on ponies and hamstring them 
with their swords, and to receive charging lion on their 
spears; fanatic Mohammedans, blood brothers to the 
Mahdist swordsmen who fell in windrows under the 
machine-gun fire of the British square at Omdurman, and 
kinsmen of the men who for eight years have held the 
frontier of British authority and influence in Somaliland 
against the Mad Mullah's still more fanatical raiding 
hordes, the Mullah who now is giving Britain the most 
serious native war problem she has had to confront since 
the Mahdi's downfall. 

Regal Wassama, the chef a chef Sherry would be 
glad to own is a veteran bearing the scars of three 
Soudan campaigns. 

Djama Aout, the head shikari (gun bearer) is the man 


who thrust a pistol down the throat of a wounded lion, to 
save the life of Charles Bulpett, who lay beneath the lion, 
and there held the pistol till he had fired its six loads, while, 
meantime, the lion was crunching his arm. 

Hassan Yusuf, the second shikari, was a sergeant of 
Italian horse at the battle of Adowa, and is as steady a 
man as one could ask to have behind him in any trouble. 

Awala Nuer, the third shikari, gets a bit excited in 
the presence of big game and sometimes does the wrong 
thing, but never learned to run from anything. 

Hadji Ali, the headman, and Abullahi, Adam Rob- 
ley, Osman, Derria, and Adam Elmy, and the matchless 
Swahili, Salem bin Juma, are men who can make safari 
life as comfortable and even luxurious for Mr. Roosevelt 
as ever he found the White House if he finally elects to 
take them. 

But, while I understand he has accepted the offer of 
their services, I know that his chosen safari leader, R. J. 
Cunninghame, objects strongly to the use of Somalis, 
for so he told me at dinner the night before I left Nairobi. 
In their stead, even as gun bearers, he prefers to use 
Swahilis, who, when they do wrong, may be given the 
only corrective that has the slightest useful effect with an 
African native, viz., anywhere from ten to twenty-five 
strokes across the buttocks with the kiboko, a flexible 
but stiff, straight whip four or five feet long and a half- 
inch thick in the middle, cut out of hippo or rhino hide, 
that, when it does not draw blood, raises welts double its 
own diameter. 

The kiboko, or even a blow or kick, no Somali will 
stand; any man who so handles them is pretty certain 


to find a knife sticking in his ribs, a little sooner or latter, 
unless he has established extraordinary authority and 
influence over them as a master they both respect and 
fear, and even then he is none too safe. 

It 's a whole lot of diplomacy one needs to success- 
fully and safely handle Somalis, and I believe Cunning- 
hame is quite right that they are a disturbing element in 
any safari under any man less absolutely their master 
than Mr. McMillan. Personally I thoroughly liked them, 
and, thanks to the fact that Mr. McMillan had tempo- 
rarily transferred to me the mantle of his authority of every 
sort over them, with right of punishment or dismissal, had 
comparatively little trouble with them. Once I just had 
to smash one of the shikaris in the nose for handing me 
one rifle and passing me the cartridges of another of 
different calibre in rather a tight corner but he only 
drew himself up and gravely said: "You are my bwana 
(master) and my father; good!" Just how "good" I 
did not feel any too safe of, however, until my train was 
pulling out of Nairobi. 

Approve it though he of course will not, Mr. Roosevelt 
will have to close his eyes or accustom himself to occasional 
severe floggings of the wapagazi (porters), for without 
it no safari could he held together a fortnight ; discipline 
would soon disappear and that quickly be followed by 
open revolt or desertion. To the lazy porter a flogging 
merely serves as a temporary spur to better work, but, 
oddly, the insolent and rebellious are by it almost in- 
variably transformed into the most respectful, zealous, 
and efficient men of your command. Nor as a rule do any 
of the East African tribesmen who serve as porters bear 


a grudge for a flogging they just take it as a matter of 
course, accustomed as they have been to receive far worse 
in the way of discipline at the hands of their own chiefs. 

Indeed, it must be remembered that the black is of a 
far coarser fibre than the white man, and, therefore, 
endures and recovers from punishment and wounds no 
white man could survive. 

Ordered to chine (lie prone upon his face), down he 
goes without a murmur, so lies, unheld and uncomplain- 
ing, until the flogging is finished, and then often springs to 
his feet, draws himself up and salutes his bwana, with a 

In the matter of safari leader, Mr. Roosevelt has 
been well advised. Other African hunters there are, per- 
haps, in many ways as capable as Mr. R. J. Cunninghame ; 
a few, but none are quite his equal. A man of broad 
education and a close student of natural history, through- 
out his seventeen years in the open veldt and bush veldt, 
the rifle his exclusive trade and capital, the elephant has 
always meant more to him than ivory and buck more than 
meat and skins. All the time he has been studying, until 
to-day he possesses a more comprehensive and accurate 
knowledge of African game, big and little, the local habi- 
tat and habits of each species, than any man living, with 
the single possible exception of F. C. Selous. 

Now about forty years of age, full-bearded and deep- 
wrinkled of face as an Arab, wrinkles all soon get who 
long dwell in the shimmering glare of the equatorial 
sun, Mr. Cunninghame's short stature and otherwise 
slender frame are burdened with a pair of shoulders so 
massive in depth and breadth as to incline any one to feel 
sorry for his legs who does not know how tirelessly they 


carry him from dawn to dark through the heaviest going 
in elephant grass or bush. 

Absolutely in his prime, both in experience and 
strength, if the organization and routing of the safari 
are left exclusively to Cunninghame, it is safe to say Mr. 
Roosevelt will return with such a bag as few, if any, have 
ever equalled; if there is much interference, he, easily 
enough, may not return with such a bag, for even with 
species that are in certain sections absolutely abundant, 
it is often hard to find them and harder still to locate, 
stalk, and kill individual fine specimens. 

On March 18 Cunninghame and I lunched and dined 
together in Nairobi. He then told me he was still unable 
to make any definite plans as to the routing of the safari. 
He had a tall stack of letters from the White House, each 
new one conflicting in one feature or another with the 
advices contained in its predecessor obviously the re- 
sult of the mass of suggestions and advice sought from or 
volunteered by men who had shot in Africa and were 
presumed to know the game, and all of whom, naturally 
enough, held more or less differing views. 

About all then clear to him was that Mr. Roosevelt 
would arrive in Mombasa April 22 on the Admiral of 
the German East African Line, accompanied by his 
son, Kermit, by F. C. Selous, who was to join him at 
Naples, and by three representatives of the Smithsonian 

This meant a party of seven white men, including 
himself, and was giving Cunninghame no little concern, 
as most of the best shooting is in remote sections where no 
food is obtainable, even for one's porters, other than meat, 
and Swahili porters the best obtainable and the sort 


engaged by Cunninghame are Mohammedans who will 
eat no meat not properly halaled, the throat cut by one of 
their own faith before the beast is dead. Thus a party of 
more than two or three men makes a big, unwieldy cara- 
van, naturally difficult to handle, and often desperately 
hard to provide for. 

The last mail, however, brought him advice that the 
ex- President and his son would not come directly through 
to Nairobi, but would leave the Uganda Railway at 
Kapiti Plains, two hundred and eighty-eight miles from 
Mombasa and thirty-nine miles short of Nairobi, the 
nearest station to Sir Alfred Pease's Kilima Theki Farm, 
where he intended stopping for a fortnight for lion, after 
which he purposed trekking north twenty-five miles across 
the Athi Plains, to Mr. McMillan's Juja Farm for a stay 
of two or three weeks. In the meantime, Cunninghame 
was instructed, he would be expected to take the three 
Smithsonian scientists on a short safari, wherever they 
could best get busy accumulating specimens of the smaller 
mammals and birds. The Juja visit finished, then the 
party was to be reunited and the big safari start in 
such direction as might be later agreed on. 

"And it 's a jolly heavy load that letter takes off my 
mind," Cunninghame commented. 

"Why?" I asked. 

"Why?" he answered; "just because from the first I 
have by no means enjoyed the gravity of the responsibility 
I must assume in taking a man of Mr. Roosevelt's high 
position out after lion. Indeed, I have enjoyed it less 
since he wrote me that he is a bad shot ' useless with a 
shotgun and rusty with a rifle ' though this statement, 
I fancy, from all I have heard of his fine work in your own 



Far West, will turn out to be overcolored by modesty. 
But you well know a charging lion does n't give a man 
much time nothing but a mortal brain shot can be 
sure of stopping him and I myself can miss a shot at 
times, like anybody else. So if he gets his lion over about 
Theki and surely at that season the Hills will be able to 
show him lion there leaving me free to give lion the 
go-by and proceed with the general bag, it 's pleased as 
Punch I'll be." 

"But don't you consider elephant quite as dangerous 
as lion?" I asked. 

"Far more dangerous," he replied, "under certain 
conditions; less in others. But you don't suppose I'd 
be infernal fool enough to take Mr. Roosevelt into the 
long elephant grass and dense forest of the Kisii country 
where you got your big eleven-footer, do you? There 
it 's so thick a man 's just got to go it alone, win or lose. 
None of that sort of country for me where I've got a life 
like his on my hands. Never! I'll take him where he 
can shoot his elephant like a gentleman, in open forest 
where one can see what 's about him and where, if any- 
thing goes wrong, one can lend a bit of help. That 's 
the sort of place he'll get his elephant in. 

"Where? Oh, probably on the slopes of Mount 
Kenya, when, during the rains, the elephant have worked 
down out of the dense bamboo forest of the higher alti- 
tudes into open wood, and where they stay till the heat of 
the dry season drives them back up into the bamboos." 

Returned to Juja early in March from three months 
on safari west along the German border and back 
through the Kavirondo, Kisii, Sotik, and Lumbwa coun- 
tries, I had finished a bag that included all the specially 


desirable species on the Big Game License except lion 
and bongo. With my passage home booked for March 
28, no chance remained for a final try for either of 
these lacking treasures, except lion. But for them there 
was yet a possibility. 

Lion shift range a lot, following the game. During 
the thirty days between June and October that I had 
occupied exclusively (but unsuccessfully) in hunting lion 
along the Athi, the Ruwero, and the N'durugo, the three 
boundary rivers of the Juja estate, lion were as a rule 
heard about the camps every night, though not as thick 
as usual. But in December they had again drifted back 
in large numbers, and throughout the winter were seen 
almost daily by one or another of the Juja employees. 
On New Year's Day, William Marlow, the superintendent 
of Mr. McMillan's Long Juju Farm on the N'durugo, four 
miles from Juja, killed a superb big black-mane, almost 
a record in those parts, within a mile of his house; and a 
month later John Destro, the Juja storekeeper, killed a 
fine lioness a half-mile below the same house, first 
sighted and shot her in thick thorn at scant ten feet 
distance, luckily placing a mortal shot that dropped her 
in her tracks. 

Then in February Mr. George, a guest of our Donya 
Sabuk neighbors Penton and Bunbury, a young man of 
but comparatively little field experience, with only three 
days of his stay remaining, camped down near the Caves 
of a Hundred Lion on the Athi, three miles from Juja. 
The second evening, sitting under cover atop of the cliffs 
whose base and crest are honeycombed with openings 
to caves the lions haunt when hunting thereabouts, he had 
the unforgivable luck to sight six lion stalking back to 


their bed chambers, and to kill four of the six, precisely 
where I had spent a whole fortnight and several sleepless 
nights trying, vainly, to sight one. Such is the luck of the 

Even ladies there could then sight lion, for a little 
later in February Miss Kipp, a guest of Miss Lucas of 
Donya Sabuk (whose brother was killed by a lion on the 
Athi three years before), while riding from Juja to the 
Lucas farm with only one native spearman as attendant, 
was followed half a mile by a big lioness. 

So, encouraged by these stories of recent experiences, 
the moment I got back I started out and scattered Masai 
scouts in all directions but never a bit of fresh sign 
could they find; apparently the lion had trekked away. 

Then on the tenth, Captain A. B. Duirs, the manager 
of Juja, and I went out on a four days' circle of Komo 
Rock and Ostrich Hill to the east of the Athi, but while 
the trip yielded me a superb eland bull, and also a great 
water python seventeen feet, four inches long, killed in 
short reeds about a small water-hole four miles from the 
river, no lion did we find. 

The photographs of the eland, of the python, and of 
the big Boer gharri used on short safari about Juja give 
some idea of the vast and comparatively level stretches of 
the Athi Plains, where Mr. Roosevelt will find many sorts 
of game as thick as he ever saw cattle on the most over- 
crowded range hartebeeste, zebra, Granti and Thomp- 
soni (gazelle), impala, water buck, reed buck, giraffe, 
ostrich, bush buck, duyker, dik-dik, wart-hog, hyena; 
while the deep pools of its rivers are full of hippo and 
crocodiles and the thorn thickets and cliffs lining the 
streams are always full of monkeys, from little blue chaps 


no bigger than kittens up to great man apes nearly four 
feet tall. There, too, among the thorns and rocks are 
favorite lurking places for lion and leopard, as offering 
convenient ambush for a short dash on buck stringing 
down to water; and seven miles west on Kamiti Farm, 
whose shooting will be placed at Mr. Roosevelt's disposal 
by its owner, Mr. Hugh H. Heatley, the papyrus swamps 
along the Kamiti are so full of buffalo that every few 
days Heatley's Boer farmer, Hammond, has to sprint 
for his life from his ploughing to his house, and the 
neighbors are predicting it is not likely to be long before 
the buffalo get him. 

Notwithstanding the abundance of the game on the 
Athi Plains, I fancy Mr. Roosevelt will find it rather the 
most difficult shooting he will have out here, for seldom 
does one get a shot at buck there at any he specially 
wants under three hundred to five hundred yards. 
Often for miles the plain offers no more cover than a 
billiard table. As one advances the vast herds part, 
moving ahead to right and left, frequently in such dense 
mass it looks as if the entire plain itself had gone adrift. 
Sometimes rolling ground or bits of bush offer possible 
stalking on a fine specimen you have picked, but rarely 
or never when there are not scores or hundreds of other 
buck near from which you can't hide yourself and which 
are always off and passing the alarm to your specimen 
buck before you are within easy range. 

For instance, the getting of my eland bull was a 
typical incident. He was one of twelve, dozing com- 
fortably, some lying and some standing, midway of a low, 
smooth hillslope. No other buck were at the time within 
a half-mile of the eland. To get the wind, I had to circle 







far south of them, and got by without rousing them. 
But on my return toward them, while still a fourth of a 
mile from them, Grant and Tommy bounding about 
ahead of me passed them the tip of coming trouble, so 
that when I got to the hillcrest it was to see my eland a 
half-mile below me, moving north with a mass of other 

Altogether I was four hours playing about those eland, 
trying for a possible shot at the big bull of the herd 
followed them five miles to the eastern foot of Donya 
Sabuk, where, late in the afternoon, I had to content 
myself with a shot at seven hundred yards that, most 
luckily, gave him a bad wound in the hind quarter that 
enabled Duirs to run him on Long Tom and cut and turn 
him from the herd within easy range of me. 

The accompanying photographs, by the way, show 
Djama Aout and Hassan Yusef, the two Somali shikaris 
who will serve Mr. Roosevelt while he is shooting about 
Juja and later on his safari, if he overrides Mr. 
Cunninghame's prejudice against them Djama holding 
the python's head, Hassan his tail. They also show 
Long Tom and Walleye, the two best Juja shooting 
ponies, one or both of which will carry Mr. Roosevelt. 
Walleye, the smaller of the two, a Somali pony, stands 
still as a statue for a shot from the saddle, and is probably 
the best lion pony in British East Africa. Long Tom, an 
East Indian country bred, is less tractable but faster. 

His eland Mr. Roosevelt will only get by accepting a 
special license from the Governor, which, of course, will 
be given him if he wishes it, for under the new Game Law 
which went into effect April i, eland are declared royal 
game and shooting them is forbidden, under penalty of 


a heavy fine or imprisonment, or both. Thus my bull 
will remain one of the very last ever to be killed in British 
East Africa. Well it is the eland should be saved, in a 
country in which both horses and mules are easy and 
frequent prey to several types of fatal horse sicknesses, 
for they are easily domesticated, and it is hoped their vast 
bulk of weight and muscle may yet prove of economic 
value for heavy draft purposes. 

Moreover, as Mr. Roosevelt is more likely to shoot and 
kill than to heed their petitions that he should not shoot, 
it may interest the members of the Society for the Preven- 
tion of Cruelty to Animals to know that the Administration 
of British East Africa has been compelled to recognize in 
the new Game Law the loud cries of settlers for protection 
against the depredations of wild game. Indeed, the 
game in B. E. A. must be thinned, if not exterminated, 
before farmers may enjoy the avails of their land holdings. 
Thus the new law permits proprietors to allow any one 
holding a game license to shoot all the game he likes on 
their estates, and practically removes all restrictions 
against the killing of game on one's own land. 

The sheer "vermin" so declared by the law, predatory 
beasts against which no life is safe, biped or quadruped 
lion, leopard, hyena, crocodile, etc. (while the "pro- 
tected" buffalo and rhino are just as dangerous to human 
life) the most rabid member of the Society for the 
Prevention of Cruelty to Animals would not long live 
neighbor to before unlimbering his guns. 

For example, a few days before I left Juja news came 
from the manager of one of Mr. McMillan's farms that 
his next neighbor, a young German named Loder, had 
been killed by leopard. Swift and Rutherfoord, farmers 


a day's journey north of Juja, have in the last three years 
killed sixteen lion had to do it to save their domestic 
stock from extermination. 

The two following items are clipped from The East 
African Standard of March 27: 


The natives of M'tongwe have seriously appealed to European 
sportsmen in Mombasa for protection. During Monday night three 
lions took away a cow from a native's boma and on Tuesday night 
terrified the inhabitants by roaring round their huts seeking food. 

On Tuesday afternoon the spoors of the lions were seen clearly 
marked in the neighborhood of the hole where Makalinga buried 
the body of the late Mr. London. The natives fear that the spirits 
of the recently hanged murderers have entered the bodies of the 
lions and are visiting the village to exact penalties. 


For some time past Messrs. Newland and Tarlton have been 
receiving reports of the existence of man-eating lions near Lake 
Magadi. It was reported that several natives lost their lives through 

Last week Mr. Tarlton sent Mr. Stanton, an employee of the 
firm, out to ascertain facts and if possible dispose of the danger. 
On Thursday Mr. Stanton came across a huge lioness and wounded 
her severely. Following her up, he again hit her, this time through 
the eye. The shot was not fatal, however, and the enraged animal 
immediately charged, knocking Mr. Stanton over and stunning 
him. His gun bearer could not shoot, for fear of hitting Mr. Stanton. 
As soon as Mr. Stanton rose the brute struck him again. She then 
made off, and on being followed up by the party she was found 
crouching behind a bowlder. The gun bearer hit her with a .450 
in the jaw, completely smashing it, and then struck her in the side, 
making a huge gash. Thinking she was quite dead, Mr. Stanton, 
who was still very dazed, moved up, when he was again attacked; 


but before he was down the gun bearer finished the matter by firing 

We have seen the skin and skull which testify to the fight. 
Strange to say, Mr. Stanton was struck each time by the pads of 
the beast's feet; but sustained only bruises. A Masai who was 
following Mr. Stanton and was previously warned off, was badly 
mauled and torn by the lioness when she was hiding in the bush 
after receiving the first shot. 

Nor is the farmer's worst actual trouble with the 
man-eaters or other predatory types, for fencing is of no 
earthly avail against the general mass of the game. Juja's 
twenty thousand acres was once stoutly fenced, and with 
five strands of barb wire; to-day it is hard to find a two- 
hundred-yard section of the fence standing intact. Over 
fences the big buck go like birds, through them zebra 
chased by lion smash like a whirlwind, and nothing but a 
wire screen would serve to keep out the little "Tommys," 
Granti, dik-dik, etc. 

Thus it will be seen that proselyting for the S. P. C. A. 
in British East Africa would be hopelessly uphill work, 
even for the most zealous. 


RETURNED to Juja House Saturday evening, the 
thirteenth, I found a message waiting me from 
Clifford and Harold Hill, who until recently have 
managed Sir Alfred Pease's Theki ostrich farm, and 
whose own ostrich farm, Katelembo, adjoins Theki on 
the east and south. Their message advised me that lion 
had been so thick about their place for a week that they 
were confident they could show me a chance at one or 
more if I came over immediately. 

Circumstances had compelled me to decline two pre- 
vious invitations from them, and now this last chance was 
one not to be lost, for as a rule no section of British East 
Africa is as thickly infested with lion as the Theki Farm 
of Sir Alfred Pease and the Katelembo and Wami Farms 
of the Hill cousins, and few, if any, non-professional 
hunters have had more experience with lion than the Hills. 
In the last three years they have themselves killed fifteen 
lion there and their visiting guests have shot another ten, 
or a total of twenty-five. 

Lucky indeed is Mr. Roosevelt that his initiation into 
the gentle sport of lion shooting will be at the hands of the 
Hills; with no other men could he be surer of success or 
safer against serious injury, for they know the game and 
have the nerve to play it right. 

Both are colonials who have never seen England, 
South African bred, descendants of families which were 


among the first British settlers of Grahamstown early 
in the last century. True to the traditions of their 
Basuto- and Zulu-fighting ancestors, they were among 
the first colonials to enlist for the Boer War Clifford in 
the Imperial Light Horse and Harold in Neville's Horse - 
and among the last mustered out. 

The war over, seized by the restless spirit of their 
pioneer forebears, both trekked away north into the 
wilds of British East Africa, planning there to establish 
themselves in ostrich farming wherever the wild birds 
were thickest to which in their youth they were bred, 
and which in the southern colonies is winning such large 
fortunes for the initiated. 

Slender, sinewy men of' iron endurance, quiet and 
gentle of speech, steady, cool-headed shots at anything 
that needs lead, but tireless workers on their farm, the 
Hills have never hunted lion for sport but only as a 
necessary incident of the day's work. 

So, the hour of 4 A. M. Sunday, the fourteenth, found 
me mounted on Walleye, and followed by Hassan Yusef 
(riding a mule and carrying my two rifles), trotting away 
through the darkness and bitter chill of early morning in 
the African highlands, on a short cut, first through the 
Athi Plains and then over the summit of the Machakos 
Range, to the Hill farm, thirty miles distant from Juja, 
where I arrived about noon. 

Too busy accumulating ostriches and thinning out 
lion to have any time left for architecture, I there found 
the Hills installed in two grass huts of the sort natives 
throw up in a day or two, one the dormitory and the 
other the dining-room both windowless because the 
chinks in the grass walls let in light and air enough; both 


doorless, because any prowling would-be intruder that 
might be excluded by a proper door could easily enough 
force entrance through the flimsy walls. 

And there for three days I was made as welcome and 
as comfortable as ever before in many far more preten- 
tious diggings. 

Hanging beneath a thorn tree behind the house, cur- 
ing, were the four fresh-killed lion skins fallen to Harold's 
rifle which had prompted them to send for me. 

The Thursday of the week previous the Hills had been 
spending the night with District Commissioner R. W. 
Humphery, the Chief Administrative Officer of their 
District of Ukamba, at Machakos Fort, four miles from 
their farm, helping Humphery celebrate his birthday. 
At an early morning hour, not long after they had retired, 
the Hills were awakened by the sergeant of the guard and 
told that one of their natives had just arrived with word 
that six lion had broken into their ostrich boma and were 
killing the birds. Racing for the farm as fast as they 
could, accompanied by Commissioner Humphery who 
had been eight years in the country without ever seeing a 
lion until, the Christmas Day previous, he had, while 
out with the Hills, bagged a lioness, and now keen for 
another upon arrival they found the lion gone, fright- 
ened away by the din made by the natives, and three of 
their finest birds dead and half eaten in the boma. 

Sure the lion would return, the dead birds were left 
where they lay, the living transferred to a distant boma, 
and a platform built in a tree that stood in one corner 
of the enclosure. 

The boma was fifty yards square; its wall, built of 
huge thorn bush piled tightly together, easily ten feet 


thick at the base and eight feet high. Against all pre- 
cedent any of us had ever heard of, the six lion had 
actually torn their way through this most formidable. 
heavily spiked barrier, pulled and tugged until they 
had opened a way to the interior. 

Friday night the men took two-hour turns on guard 
upon the platform, but the night passed without in- 

But about 3 A. M. of Sunday morning, on Harold's 
watch he was roused by movements beneath him, to see, 
by the half light of a waning moon, the six lion returned, 
rending the dead birds and quarrelling like cats for the 
best bits. 

Instantly he began firing, and soon the cracks of his 
rifle were drowned by the deep roars of the lion, mad with 
rage over this attack by an enemy they could not see. 
Directly one scented or sighted him and made a dash 
for the tree,~whose platform a good bound might easily 
have reached, but Harold luckily dropped him with a 
shot through the spine. 

Presently there was silence below. One lion lay, ob- 
viously dead, in the moonlight beneath him, but whether 
the others had gone or were lurking in the shadows he 
felt so little sure of he kept to his perch till daylight to 
find all gone but the one. 

However, before noon four of the missing five were 
located, all severely wounded, in a near-by ravine, and, 
after a lot of careful work and much hazard, three of the 
four were bagged. 

Early Monday morning we were out, the two Hills, 
myself and gun bearer, and the Hills' Kikuyu beaters and 






The Kapiti Plains are almost entirely bare of cover, 
short grassed, bushless, but every donga (ravine) is densely 
filled with thorn, reed, and weeds, ~with here and there a 
water pool of the sort lion love to take to shortly after 
dawn in the dry, hot season just then at its height, and, 
to be seen, out of this cover they have to be routed. 

Down all their favorite dongas, over the rocky, cave-slit 
crests of Theki and Wami, through the dense scrub along 
the lower slopes of the Machakos between Theki and 
Kitanga, for three days Clifford Hill led his native beat- 
ers, while Harold and I, on foot, marched from fifty to 
three hundred yards ahead of and slightly flanking the 
line of beaters, one to right and one to left as a rule, 
but never a lion did we raise. Once we struck fresh sign 
entering a bit of bush and thought we had him, the 
incident shown in the pictures where our group is rather 
closely bunched and advancing to where we thought he 
lay. But on out of the bush he had passed, over hard- 
baked ground where he left no further sign. 

With more luck than I had ever dared hope for with 
all other big game, lion are evidently not meant for me 
like Director of Surveys, Colonel G. E. Smith, who sur- 
veyed the first caravan road from Mombasa to Uganda, 
who was chief of the Anglo- German Boundary Survey, and 
has spent the larger part of the last fifteen years in the 
wildest of British East Africa's wild places, who on these 
same Kapiti Plains himself killed seventeen rhino in 
one day had to do it to protect his safari from their 
continual charges but who to this day has never seen 
a lion. 

Tuesday, just before beating the summit of Theki, we 
had lunch with Mr. Allsop, manager of Sir Alfred Pease's 


Theki ostrich farm, in his little two-room tin house, which 
is shrouded in granadilla vines, whose delicious passion 
fruit was then purpling and should be prime in another 
month. There I got photographs of the two Arab 
stallions newly bought by Sir Alfred for Mr. Roosevelt's 
use, and arrived only the day before, direct from the 
Soudan, via Mombasa. 

Wednesday afternoon, en route back to Juja, Clifford 
Hill and I visited Kitanga, the new house Sir Alfred is 
building for the reception of Mr. Roosevelt, then nearing 
completion. It is a tin-roofed one-story bungalow, the 
outer walls built of square gray granite blocks, the 
partitions of sun-dried bricks, of five rooms a central 
living and dining room flanked by four small bedrooms, 
and sporting two baths. Beautifully situated on a high 
shoulder of the south end of the Machakos Range, about 
6,500 feet above sea level, its broad veranda commands a 
magnificent view east over tall round-topped hills 
thinly clad with wild olives, south across the dim, hazy 
stretches of the Kapiti Plains and over the rugged crests 
of Chumvi, Theki, and Wami, the only mountain uplifts 
that break the plain's monotony, down upon the white 
splotch in the broad yellow field which represents Kapiti 
Station, twelve miles away, and on through the purple 
distance to where, one hundred and twenty miles away, 
Mt. Kilima N'jaro's 19,000 feet tower so high aloft 
toward the zenith that it is hard to realize its snow and 
glacier-clad crest is actually a mountain peak and not a 
cloud. The view we had Mr. Roosevelt may not get, 
for Mt. Kilima N'jaro is seldom clearly visible from there- 
abouts excepting just at the very end of the dry season. 

The group of men appearing in the picture of Kitanga, 


contractors engaged in building the house, are Boer 
emigrants from South Africa, now farmers living in a 
close little colony along the slopes of Lucania, a small 
rugged range lying between the Machakos and the Athi 
River, and oddly includes three men bearing names 
famous in Boer history, viz., a Prinsloo, a Botha, and a 
Joubert, the latter brother to General Joubert, with whom 
Mr. Roosevelt can exchange campaigning experiences in 
their mutually native Low Dutch tongue. 

Mr. Roosevelt is due to reach Kitanga about April 
24.* At the Pease house he will probably spend little 
time, as only small buck are to be had in its immediate 
vicinity. His lion camp will doubtless be pitched either 
at Lanjaro, a small spring midway between Kitanga and 
Theki, or on the Hills' Wami Farm, five miles south of 
Theki. Thereabouts by May the Hills will be able to 
show him the surest and safest lion hunting known. 

With thirty inches of rain due in April and no more 
than four inches in May the season will then be prime, 
Kapiti Plains a waving meadow of short grass, every 
dry donga a brook, every "pan" a brimming pool of 
sweet water, the weather so cool that lion then rove or 
idle on the plains by day, instead of seeking cover as in 
the dry season, where they may easily be marked down 

* Arrived at Port Said at 2 A. M. April 10, we came to anchor a few hundred 
feet from the Admiral, which had come in from Naples at 6 p. M. of the ninth. 
Neither Mr. Roosevelt nor any of his party had been ashore, we were told. 

At 5 :3o A. M. of the tenth we headed out northwest across the line of the 
muddy Nile delta, leaving the Admiral still coaling but due to up anchor and 
enter the canal at 6 A. M. 

The morning of March 30 the Melbourne, floated without injury from the 
soft coral on which ske had grounded on a falling tide, made Kilindini Harbor, 
and at 3 P. M. my good friend District Commissioner Isaac, with Mr. McMillan, 
escorted me aboard her in the official barge of Provincial Commissioner S. L. 
Hinde, the same in which Mr. Hinde and Mr. Isaac will receive and land Mr. 
Roosevelt and his party of which I got a snapshot after our farewells were 


by a man with a telescope on the summit of either Theki, 
Wami, or Chumvi. 

The moment a lion is sighted, the sportsmen will start 
after him, all mounted. So soon as he sights them, one 
of the Hills will spur after him, run him to bay, and there 
circle and worry him at a safe distance while Mr. Roose- 
velt gallops up, followed by his gun bearer, to within one 
hundred to two hundred yards, according to his nerve 
and confidence in his shooting, and dismounts for his shot. 
In seven cases out of ten the lion charges the pony man 
instead of the sportsman, indeed is almost sure to if the 
rider is on a white or gray horse, resembling a zebra. 
And when he does charge the sportsman, there is always 
a chance the pony man may head and divert him; but 
where this strategy fails, then it is a case of shoot quick 
and straight or take (at least) a rending from carrion- 
tainted claws certain to cause fatal blood poisoning if 
permanganate of potash is not promptly applied to the 
wounds in such strength that the treatment is even more 
painful than the wounds. 

Just as I was stepping into the gharri in front of Juja 
House the afternoon of the eighteenth, to go to Mombasa 
to meet Mr. McMillan, who was due there from India 
the twenty-first, the following letter was handed to me : 

LONG Juju, March 18, 1909. 

[British East Africa.] 
To E. B. BRONSON, Esq., Juja Farm. 

DEAR MR. BRONSON. I saw a very fine lion yesterday morning, 
also fresh tracks of two small ones, and one was growling around 
here nearly all night. 

I went all around the ditch this morning early ; but did not see one. 
Trusting you are well, believe me, 

Yours faithfully, W. MARLOW. 

t/3 W 



Thus if Mr. Roosevelt fails of a chance at Theki, it is 
more than likely the Juja estate can furnish all the lion 
he wants. 

The night we reached Nairobi, Mr. Cunninghame dined 
with us at Mr. McMillan's town bungalow, where he 
learned that Mr. Selous comes out as the guest of Mr. 
McMillan, with whom he is expecting to go on safari for 
several weeks immediately after Mr. Roosevelt's visit 
to Juja is finished. Thus, unless they arrange otherwise 
while shipmates on the Admiral, while Mr. Selous may 
shoot with Mr. Roosevelt at Theki or Juja he will not 
accompany any of Mr. Roosevelt's long safaris. 

The Juja visit, however, may be deferred to a later 
date, as Mr. Cunninghame is keen to have Mr. Roosevelt 
come out with him on a short safari directly he leaves 
Sir Alfred Pease and before the "big rains" are stopped 
after certain game which is most easily had during the 
wet season. 

If such a short safari is arranged, it is probable Mr. 
Cunninghame will take Mr. Roosevelt to Mt. Kenya, a 
week's march north of Juja, for elephant. 

As for the long safari in British East Africa, if the 
choice is left to Mr. Cunninghame, it is probable it will go 
by rail from Nairobi sixty-four miles west to Naivasha, 
there detrain, circle the south end of Lake Naivasha, 
ascend and cross the precipitous lofty wall of the Mau 
Escarpment and thence drop into the Sotik country for 
there on the Limerick Plains and along the upper reaches 
of the Amala River is Cunninghame's favorite place for 
quickly and easily bagging fine specimens of the more 
abundant species. On this route, in four to five days' 
march from Naivasha Mr. Roosevelt will be in good shoot- 


ing. There, moreover, he will be in reach of some of the 
rarer species; within two to three days' march roan may 
be had on the crest of Isuria Escarpment, and nearer still, 
if he has patience and luck, the Chipalungo Forest may 
yield him a bongo, while two days west of Sotik Boma, 
on the Rongana, rhino abound sporting horns up to thirty- 
four inches in length. 

The Sotik safari finished, I shall expect to see Mr. 
Cunninghame march the safari north from Gilgil, probably 
to and past Rumuruti Boma on the Guaso Narok River, 
thence swinging west to Lake Baringo for greater Kudu 
and lesser Kudu, or perhaps instead descending the 
northern Guaso Nyiro River and following it east along 
the southern boundary of the great Jubaland Game Re- 
serve, and returning to Nairobi via Nyeri and Ft. Hall. 

The time allotted to shooting in British East Africa 
nearing its finish, I shall not be surprised to see Mr. 
Roosevelt's safari lead northwest from Londiani Station, 
through the capital shooting on the Uasin Guishu Plateau, 
to a look in on the Cave Dwellers of Mt. Elgon, whence 
its descent to Jinja, the Nyanza head of the Nile, will be 
easy by one of the excellent roads which Governor Bell's 
energetic administration has given to Uganda. 

The giant white rhino I see in the home press Mr. 
Roosevelt is keen for, are now about as scarce as hens' 
teeth, but along the western sources of the Nile, on his way 
to Lake Albert Edward, through the farther limits of the 
Uganda Province of Toro, well over toward the Congo, he 
may have the luck to find one. 

If for his journey across Uganda and on north down 
the Nile to Cairo he follows the usual route, and the 
only easy one, he will cross the north end of Victoria 


Nyanza from Kisumu to Entebbe in one of the excellent 
little steamers of the Uganda Railway, only fifteen hours 
actual steaming, but passengers are never landed until 
the morning following the date of sailing. From Entebbe 
there is an excellent road for one hundred and sixty miles 
to Hoima, usually covered, in rickshaw or on bicycle, in 
ten days. The thirty-three miles from Hoima to the Lake 
Albert Edward port of Butiaba is over such rough going 
that it must be done on foot, a good two days' march. 
At Butiaba he will take the tiny Government launch 
Kenia, on which, for passengers unable to crowd into the 
engineer's cabin, a tent is pitched on deck. Steaming 
from dawn to dark and tying up over night, the Kenia 
covers the three hundred odd miles down lake and Nile to 
Nimule in five days. From Nimule to Gondokoro, the 
head of upper Nile navigation, the river falls so rapidly 
that the entire one hundred and thirty intervening miles 
must be done afoot, a nine days' march. From Gondo- 
koro one reaches Khartoum by steamer in nine days, and 
then three days more by rail lands one in Cairo. 

Thus the entire distance from Entebbe to Cairo may 
be covered in thirty-eight days, but it is not likely Mr. 
Roosevelt will press straight through without a stop. 
Immediately north of Gondokoro there is capital shooting, 
including one or two species he will not find in British 
East Africa, while up the Sobat, a large western tributary 
entering the Nile roughly midway between Gondokoro 
and Khartoum, there is probably the best open country 
elephant shooting remaining in all Africa, and there, I 
understand, Mr. Cunninghame is likely to take him for a 
finish of his African sport on royal game. 

On Friday the twenty-sixth we left Nairobi in Mr. 


McMillan's special car for Mombasa, to which he was re- 
turning to meet Mrs. McMillan, who was due to arrive 
there from India the thirty-first. 

On Sunday the Melbourne, northbound, and the 
Oxus, southbound, both of the Cie Mesageries Maritimes, 
arrived off Kilindini, the west and principal harbor of 
Mombasa; but since the former had the bad luck to run 
aground in the narrow channel entrance and the latter lay 
by to help her, it was not until Monday that both were 
able to drop anchor in the harbor. 

The Oxus brought Sir Alfred Pease, Lady Pease, 
and their daughter. 

While we were at breakfast at the Grand Hotel, Sir 
Alfred came in and we were introduced. A tall, spare, 
active man of about fifty, the Hills tell me he is as keen 
for veldt sport as any youngster. He and his family were 
hurrying up country by the next train to hasten the com- 
pletion and furnishing of Kitanga. 

Asked if he felt sure of getting Mr. Roosevelt his lion, 
Sir Alfred replied: 

"Well, one never can tell, you know; just depends 
on a man's luck. Last year during my eight weeks' stay 
at Theki I personally saw, all told, twenty-seven lion, 
and yet for the three weeks of the same period my friend 
Sir Edmund Loder spent with me there, after he had been 
out three months on safari without getting or even seeing 
a lion, we failed entirely to show him one." 

Yes, indeed, it is all just a matter of "luck," is lion 
shooting as few could so emphatically prove as my 
friend the Cavaliere A. Parenti, a shipmate. Many have 
read but probably few have credited the story of a lion 
taking a man from a carriage of the Uganda Railway. 


And yet it is true in every detail. Cavaliere Parenti was 
one of the three men in the compartment in which the man 
was killed and from which he was carried by the invader. 
Asked to refresh my memory of the details of the incident, 
he replied : 

"Ah! my God, but I can smell the stench of that 
lion yet, for I lay beneath him in the darkness on the floor 
of the compartment during the few seconds he took to 
crunch the life out of poor Ryall! 

"You know, Mr. Ryall, who was then the Superin- 
tendent of the Railway Police, our friend Mr. Huebner, 
and myself, had heard of a man-eater who had killed and 
eaten several persons between the stations of Kiu and Sul- 
tan Hamud, and left Mombasa to hunt him. 

"In the night our railway carriage was cut and dropped 
from the train in the vicinity of his depredations, and the 
three of us went to sleep, preparatory to an early start 
in the morning. 

"How did the man-eater get in? God knows; I 
don't; through the open window doubtless. 

"The first I knew I was on the floor of the car, beneath 
some soft, heavy, foul-smelling body; then I heard the 
crunch of huge jaws and just one low, horrid cry from 
where Ryall lay in the berth opposite mine. Then the 
beast was off in a leap through the window and I I 
found poor Ryall gone. 

"Did we find him? Yes, in the morning, a few hun- 
dred yards away But please don't ask me more I 
can't talk of it yet, for the foul smell of that man-eater 
is ever in my nostrils, poor old Ryall's smothered death 
shriek ever ringing in my ears." 

.Yes, and also, as in this preceding incident, just 


"luck" with whom the sport lies the biped or the 
quadruped as instance, records in the official files of the 
Uganda Railway proving that eighty-four laborers, chiefly 
East Indians, were killed and eaten in the vicinity of 
Tsavo by one family of man-eaters, consisting of a black- 
mane, a lioness, and three pups, before they were finally 
exterminated by Colonel Patterson. 

And while the files and records of the railway are red 
with such tragedies, they are also at times lightened with 
incidents full of humor. 

For years and to this day the Station of Simba (Swa- 
hili for " lion ") has been so infested with lion that they 
are a constant terror to the resident Hindu baboo (station 
master). All told, about twenty have been shot from its 
doors and windows and from the top of the adjacent 
water tank. Once they got so bad the company was com- 
pelled to send there a detail of ten Askaris (native police), 
but that they failed to afford adequate protection was 
proved by the fact that the manager received a day or two 
later the following despatch from his Simba baboo: 

"At time of roaring policemen are not so brave; please 
arrange quick." 


OF all the long line of national or international ex- 
positions inspired by and more or less direct se- 
quences of that with which the Crystal Palace was 
opened in London in 1851, few if any have been so pictur- 
esque and none so weirdly interesting as the first Agricul- 
tural and Industrial Exhibition of Uganda, held November 
9 and 10, 1908, held at Kampala in a valley slumbering 
beneath the shadows of Mengo Hill, from whose crest, 
in 1877, King Mutesa issued orders for the assassination 
of the first party of pioneers of the Christian faith (mem- 
bers of the Church Missionary Society) that ventured 
to seek foothold in the heart of far-away Equatorial Africa. 

While there were one hundred thousand visitors, many 
come distances of from one hundred to two hundred 
miles, the management was spared the vexatious trans- 
portation difficulties usually incident to such affairs, for 
99,932 (the natives) came afoot, 50 (local officials and 
missionaries) came on bicycles or in rickshaws, and the 
remaining 18 of us came from Nairobi by the Uganda 
Railway and the good ship Clement Hill of the Victoria 
Nyanza service. 

King's birthday morning, November 9, we dropped 
anchor off the new port of Luziro, deep in Murchison 
Bay. One little tin warehouse broke the solid wall of 
forest that lined the shore, one wobbly little pier gingerly 
reached out a few yards toward deep water to meet our 



approaching boats and that was all there was of 

Come ashore, we found hidden away among the trees 
perhaps a score of rickshaws, and would you believe 
it? an automobile, a big bus affair with side seats, 
the Governor's state chariot. Captain Buxton, Mr. 
Sewall, and I, who were invited to lunch with His 
Excellency, the Governor, Sir H. Hesketh Bell, K. C. 
M. G., had no more than begun to congratulate our- 
selves upon a spin across the Uganda Hills in an auto be- 
fore our hopes were dashed. Up came an aide who had 
been conferring with Lieut. Hampden of the Clement Hill 
to tell us that the expected supplies, which included auto 
materials, fuel, etc., and a rare lot of fireworks ordered 
for the fete, the last southbound French mail steamer had 
failed to land at Mombasa. Instead, it had steamed 
away south with them for Madagascar perhaps (who 
knows?) from a patriotically malicious intent to spoil 
one British festival in revenge for the checkmate France 
suffered at Fashoda. 

And there stood our steed, come to us pluckily but 
spent of its last ounce of energy in the coming, sound of 
body but empty of belly of no more use, with its tanks 
empty, than its weight in scrap iron ! 

To be sure the "railway" remained, but unfortunately 
it was not an available alternative no more use to us 
than the gasoline and pinwheels bowling away toward 
an ever-higher-rising Southern Cross, for it then only 
covered a scant two of the five miles that separate Luziro 
from Kampala. Moreover, that particular "railway" 
looked as if you could pack it on your shoulders more 
easily than ride on it. 


It is a " mono-rail system" is Kampala's, of a sort 
quite largely installed in India in sections where the 
freight traffic stacks up no more than a few tons a week, 
and where the people are as little concerned about time 
as about eternity. Laid along one side of the excellent, 
wide Kampala road, this lonely rail with its tiny ties looks 
like a primitive ladder prostrate. There the motive 
power is cattle. Where mules or horses are available, 
I am assured the high express speed of six miles an hour 
is attained. The cars used have two wheels, one of 
which trundles along the ground like any honest cart 
wheel, while the other straddles the rail and on it con- 
trives to accomplish a more or less successful rope-walk- 
ing stunt, usually less. When finished, its time schedule 
is likely to be, as closely as I could judge, tri- weekly a 
run down toward Luziro one week and a hard try to get 
back up to Kampala the third week. 

Once outside the belt of tall forest that lines the lake, 
bowling along in rickshaws at close to tram-car speed 
on down-hill and level stretches, with a sturdy Baganda 
in the shafts and two of his mates pushing aft, all droning 
the monotonous but musical chant without which no 
Central African black can do any sort of toil, we entered 
a densely settled country where round-topped grass huts 
were ever peeping out of the banana groves and smiling 
natives ever peeping out of the huts. The men were 
decorously robed in long white Kanzus reaching from neck 
to feet, the women d&colkte, bare of neck and arms but 
otherwise swathed in folds of snowy cotton wound tight 
beneath the arm pits and over the hips, a most striking 
contrast to the buxom Kavirondo beauties who are their 
next neighbors to the east, and who while never more 


heavily draped of figure than by a slender string of beads 
circling the waist, are far more virtuous than the Uganda 
women. Fields of cotton, bananas, cassava, dotted here 
and there with the graceful fronds of the date palm, 
stretched as far as we could see from the tallest hilltops. 

Passing, toward noon, through the one street of the 
Indian Bazaar, we were in the heart of Kampala, although 
one would never know it until told. About us stood the 
six high hills that constitute it Mengo, occupied by the 
boy king, Daudi Chwa, his regents, ministers, and court, 
the site of their ancient capitol when Lugard first won 
their confidence; Nakasero, by the English military and 
civil officials and the boma, or barracks, of the one com- 
pany of Sikh Infantry and the King's African Rifles, the 
the latter native troops; Nsambya, by Saint Joseph's 
Mission; Namirembe, by the English Cathedral of the 
Church Missionary Society; and Rubaga, by the White 

Descending towards the Exposition grounds, we 
bumped into another startler nothing less than an 
American merry-go-round, and a big one at that, perched 
on a bench by the side of the road, whirling gayly with a 
rider on its every horse, waiting native thousands throng- 
ing thick about, keen for a chance of a mad gallop - 
this the one only (but never lonely) prototype of Chicago's 
"Streets of Cairo" or St. Louis's "Great White Way" the 
modest little Exhibition could boast. 

The Exhibition gounds lay in a little valley at the 
foot of Namirembe Hill and covered a space of nine 
hundred by three hundred feet. 

While impaired by heavy showers, the scene when 
Governor Bell formally opened the Exhibition was one 




- , 





to dwell always in the minds of all lucky enough to be 

At the north end of the grounds stood the pavilion 
of honor, ablaze with the colors dear to British hearts, 
facing Namirembe Hill and the graceful pinnacles of the 
English Cathedral that crown it. Grouped at the other 
end and along the east and west lines stood the Exhibi- 
tion buildings, all, like the pavilion, walled and thatched 
with glistening gray elephant grass that made the green- 
sward of the parallelogram look like a vast velvet rug 
bordered with silver. Drawn up fifty yards in front of 
the pavilion stretched the grim lines of a company of 
Sikh Infantry, stern-faced, bushy-bearded, red-turbanned 
stalwarts ; to the right, a company of the King's African 
Rifles, massive blacks of a dozen different races but 
chiefly Nubians and Soudanese, uniformed in black 
jerseys and tall black tarbooshes; nearer still the band. 

Massed just without the policed lines were thousands 
of white-robed blacks. 

The pavilion itself was a bank of the most brilliant 
variegated color the blue and gold of the uniforms of 
the Governor and his staff; the white and gold of the 
line officers; the heavily gold-embroidered robes of the 
native kings and chiefs, some of black broadcloth and 
some of rich russet-hued bark cloth of native make; the 
purple and scarlet skull caps of rich Indian merchants; 
the delicate hues of the Paris gowns of a score of English 
ladies, wives of the officials; white and black robed Sis- 
ters of the Church, black and white gowned brethren of 
the faith many of the officers and a few of the officials 
starred of breast with decorations that told of distin- 
guished services to the State, the decoration that natu- 


rally dwarfed all the others, both in magnificence and in 
demand for space on human topography, being the "Star 
of Zanzibar," that of one of earth's smallest potentates, 
the Sultan of Zanzibar. 

To the right of the Governor sat the bright-faced boy 
King of Uganda, his Highness, Daudi Chwa; to the 
left; his senior regent, Sir Apolo Kagwa, K. C. M. G., 
a full-blood Baganda, but, if you please, a belted knight 
of the British Empire. Near about were grouped, each 
surrounded by his elder councillors and chiefs, the Kings 
of Unyoro, Toro, and Ankole, and the Kakunguru and 
the Saza Chief of Usoga, all feudal lords of his diminu- 
tive Highness of Uganda. 

The hour of the opening of the Exhibition was justly 
a proud moment for Sir H. Hesketh Bell, K. C. M. G., 
the Governor. Of wide administrative experience, great 
energy, and of exceptional executive ability, in his scant 
two years in Uganda he has had remarkable success in 
welding together into a fairly homogeneous whole the 
previously loosely knit feudal elements of Daudi Chwa's 
kingdom; and by a great amount of road building, and 
good road building at that, he has accomplished more 
towards the opening up of the commerce of the country 
than all his predecessors. Indeed, at no previous time 
would the transportation facilities of the country have 
permitted the assembly of such an exhibition (amounting 
to four thousand exhibits) of native products, many come 
from remote points on the Nile, out of the north, and some 
from far southern Ankole, near to Lake Kivu. Nor, 
perhaps, at any previous time would tribal jealousies 
have left such an assembly possible. 

After a brief address of welcome to the visiting dig- 


nitaries, and of congratulation upon their progress in 
education and in organized industry, Governor Bell 
received in turn the visiting feudatories and their chiefs, 
and the Exhibition was declared open. 

Then the dignitaries and the visitors dispersed among 
the exhibits, viewed the samples of most excellent wheat, 
corn, cassava flour, chillies, peas, beans, peanuts, rice, 
yams, ghee (clarified butter), potatoes, rubber, beeswax; 
of vegetables and fruits; saw the production of coffee in 
all its stages, from the picking of the berry through curing 
to the cup; were shown cotton in the boll and in the 
ginning; marvelled at the native cunning of the basket 
and mat and cloth weavers, the patience and fair handi- 
work of the ironsmiths with none but the crudest of tools ; 
stood in dumb surprise before the long line of round- 
mallet-wielding bark cloth makers, and saw a small 
eighteen-inch square of tree bark slowly expand to the 
wide proportions of an ample mantle, the finished pro- 
duct smooth and soft of texture, the color any of many 
tints from a pale amber to an Indian red; saw all these 
laughing, singing workers squatting to their tasks for 
no Baganda can even contrive to till or crop the soil 
unless he is comfortably down upon his haunches, and 
then his hands are helpless unless they are plied in time 
to the lilt of some tune or song. 

While an extraordinary and most interesting Exhi- 
bition, nevertheless I recall no native working with any 
but native tools at native tasks, making and doing the 
sort of things they have been making and doing from time 
immemorial, except a few lacemakers taught by mission 
ladies, and the feeders of the cotton gin; indeed, there 
was little in the show emphatic of material industrial 


progress except in the matter of cotton growing, the pro- 
duction of which has increased from the value of $30 in 
1904 to $240,000 in 1907-08. 

Not the least notable feature of the Exhibition was 
the youthful King of Ankole, a twenty-four-year-old, 
seven-foot giant, of an intelligent and most pleasing face. 
Nor were his principal exhibits less notable in their pro- 
portions and attractiveness than was he himself; his 
cows wore horns that would make the biggest Texas steer 
look like a two-year-old; and behind him throughout 
the day trailed a harem of thirty-seven dusky beauties 
of every tint from ebony to pale chocolate, and of all 
ages, apparently, from fourteen to four hundred. 

A Marathon race was started about three o'clock. 
The course measured one hundred yards longer than that 
of Olympia, and not only was the course an endless suc- 
cession of steep hills, but during the last two hours the 
runners had to contend with rain and mud so heavy that 
the white judges on bicycles came in completely worn out. 
Of the forty-eight starters, none were trained. Never- 
theless remarkable time was made, the winner, Kapere, 
a native of Uganda, finishing in three hours, three min- 
utes, only seven minutes over Olympia time. Only two 
others finished, one, Rubeni, coming in sixteen seconds 
after Kapere, and the third, Atanansi, three minutes later. 
And weirdest of all, the first two, standing for a photo 
ten minutes after their arrival, showed not the least sign 
of distress not a heave of flank or a tremor. Obviously, 
with decent roads and a bit of training, this pair would 
be tough customers, in any company, over a twenty-six- 
mile course. 

What magnificent reserves of latent energy dwell 


within the huge bodies of those equatorial blacks, poten- 
tial to turn every acre of land they inhabit into areas of 
enormously rich productivity, if only they could be freed 
of the lethargy within which the ease of their winning 
a subsistence enwraps them. And yet breakfasting two 
days later in Entebbe at the excellent Equatorial Hotel 
of Madame Berti, on purple passion fruit and ripe figs, 
at a table covered with orchids that would be worth a 
small fortune in New York, looking off down the perfect 
roadway, surfaced with red morain, that drives straight 
through the botanical gardens, and out across the 
sapphire of the lake to the deep blue of its farther head- 
lands, breathing an atmosphere whose every whiff suf- 
fused one's senses with the passive joys of dolce far 
niente, it was not at all so easy to suppress sentiments of 
regret that these ease-loving children of Nature must 
needs be beguiled and bedeviled by white intrusion among 

Throughout the half-century elapsed since the daring 
of Livingstone, Speke, Burton, and Stanley made known 
to the civilized world the vast store of raw riches it holds, 
its enormous resources under cultivation as a producer, 
not only of food and clothing but of an infinite variety 
of trees and plants that supply the rare and high-priced 
drugs of commerce, England and the Continental powers 
have been grabbing greedily for the last square foot they 
dared appropriate of Equatorial Africa. 

And yet to-day, after many years of administrative ex- 
perience, experiment, and study, the fundamental moot- 
point as to the ultimate value of their holdings remains 
Is Equatorial Africa roughly the middle third of 


the Dark Continent ever to become a white man's 
country in anything more than name and administra- 
tion a country where white colonists may settle and 
subsist en masse? 

This is the problem that is vexing home Colonial 
Offices and local Administrative Councils, and that one 
hears continually discussed by settlers on the streets and 
in the clubs of Mombasa, Nairobi, Entebbe, Dar-es- 
Salaam, Tanga, etc. 

And the problem is all the more intensely interesting 
from the fact that it is not only infinitely complex but, 
in many of its elements, without precise parallel. 

Of course its nearest modern parallels exist in the 
conquest and colonization of North and South America. 
But while in North America the red native was easily 
displaced and his territory appropriated and occupied 
through the gradual process of extermination, resultant 
in small measure from warfare and in large measure from 
vices and diseases contracted from the invaders, and 
while the same end was attained in South America partly 
by ruthless, indiscriminate slaughter, and partly by the 
blood admixture come of broadcast inter-marriage be- 
tween invading and native races, on the contrary the 
native black population of Central Africa (bar the original 
small Kingdom of Uganda proper, where generations of 
semi-civilized rule and habit have wrecked morals and 
reduced the birth rate) increases under contact with and 
restraint by civilization, and its women are not of types 
to leave it conceivable that white colonists will mate with 
them on any wholesale scale. 

The black, nearer to the primary brute vigor of the 
beasts of his native jungle in every physical function than 

Karroli t Desert 





60 100 

^Vf Game Reserve Boundaries __.. 




is the white man, the product of untold centuries of adap- 
tation to resistance to the many perils to life that lurk 
along the equator, endures exposure to sun and other 
climatic trials and easily recovers from wounds no white 
man could survive, even eats decaying flesh or fish without 
being poisoned by ptomaines so eats without injury 
or illness of any sort, except that the elephantiasis (a 
terrible enlargement of the body, usually of the feet or 
lower limbs), prevalent along the coast and about the 
lakes, is attributed to the consumption of putrid fish. 

The blacks are there, there in uncounted millions, 
there in population probably more dense than that of 
the wild tribesmen Caius Julius found occupying Britan- 
nia, just before the dawn of the Christian era; and, in like 
manner, it is easily conceivable, Caesar and the long string 
of consuls that followed him through the next four hun- 
dred years were, up to the last hour before their final 
expulsion, constantly debating whether Britannia was 
ever ultimately to become, actually, a Roman's country! 

Is the history of Roman Britain to be repeated in an 
ultimate expulsion of the white invaders of Equatorial 
Africa? Doubtless not, literally, and yet that it may be 
measurably repeated I am much inclined to believe, 
repeated to the extent of prevention of its occupation 
by w r hites in predominating numbers. 

While, through bad diet and ignorance of all rules 
of hygiene more susceptible to ordinary germ diseases 
than whites, the blacks more hardily withstand them. 
Inter- and inner- tribal warfare and human sacrifices to 
heathen gods now stopped conditions which alone 
served to prevent a hopelessly dense overcrowding of 
population in the past it is only a matter of years, and 


not so many at that, until the blacks, fecund as their 
flowerpot-rich soil, fill all the land from sea to sea. This 
nothing can prevent except a war of extermination, which 
modern ethics forbid, or disease. 

And in the matter of disease, what is to decimate 
them ? Pulmonary diseases so far are a negligible quantity. 
Vice and the ills it brings will not do it, for drunkenness 
and licentiousness and the long train of diseases they 
engender, which alone served to wipe out the North 
American Indian, have for generations been widely 
prevalent among them. Syphilis they apparently make 
complete recovery from without classical treatment, so 
local physicians told me. Even the bubonic plague has 
no chance there now that a competent medical protecto- 
rate over them has been established as witness the 
prompt eradication of the recent violent outbreak of that 
disease at Kisumu. 

Indeed, of the endlessly long list of known human ills, 
only one stands as a serious threat to the equatorial black, 
viz., the sleeping sickness, Trypanosomiasis, for which so 
far medical science has been able to do little more than 
give it a name. No more is to-day known of its actual 
cause or of a cure for it than when, in July, 1891, it stole 
into Kampala, come from God alone knows where, and 
quickly showed itself to be the most relentless and stubborn 
human scourge medical science has ever had to encounter. 
Within the first twelvemonth it had claimed thirty thou- 
sand victims, all natives resident on the islands of Victoria 
Nyanza, chiefly of the Sessi group, or along the north and 
west shores of the great lake. 

Through the instrumentality of the Royal Society, 
Colonel Sir David Bruce of the Indian Service, one of the 


ablest bacteriologists living, spent the year 1903 in a close 
study of the disease on the ground. But all he was able 
to learn was that it is communicated by the bite of the 
Glossina palpalis, a species of the tsetse fly, a small 
grayish-black chap the tips of whose wings cross in a 
"swallow-tail" when folded. 

Within the infected areas of Uganda, Unyoro, and 
Usoga, by the end of 1905 a full two-thirds of the popula- 
tion of three hundred thousand people were dead of the 
scourge, notwithstanding the enforced removal of well 
natives en masse to a distance of two or three miles back 
from lake shore and stream sides, beyond the known zone 
of tsetse occupation; the isolation as rapidly as possible 
of the sick upon islands of the lake; and the clearing 
away of trees, jungle, and long grass in the vicinity of 
Entebbe and Jinja. 

Now it is sweeping south along Tanganyika toward 
Rhodesia, east into German and Portuguese territory, 
and has already left a wide swath of dead behind it in 
its march around the north end of Victoria Nyanza, 
through the Province of Usoga, and into the Kavirondo 
country, where, already far to the east of Kisumu, it is 
rapidly ascending the watersheds of the Kuja and Oyani 
Rivers toward the very heart of British East Africa. 

Indeed, when on January 19 last the need of food 
compelled me to descend into the Oyani valley from the 
Kisii Highlands, where I had been after elephant, and I 
there encountered Deputy Commissioner Northcote and 
Dr. Baker, engaged, with a large party of Askaris (native 
soldiers), in building hospitals for the care of sleeping 
sickness sufferers, I was told by them that mine would be 
the last safari to be allowed to enter the Province of 


Kisumu, for fear the porters might contract the disease 
and scatter it north and east through the Protectorate. 

Looking down upon the beautiful palm-lined valley 
of the Oyani, far as the eye could see the country was 
brown with fields of the ripening metama, gray with the 
grass-roofed villages, bright with the piebald herds of 
cattle and sheep of the thrifty Kavirondo, five thousand 
of whom were then sick of the disease which means as 
bad as dead of it, and almost all of whom confront practi- 
cally certain extermination in the next four years. 

Over the entire field of its prevalence, doubtless close 
to a half-million people are dea.d of the sleeping sickness 
since its first observation in 1891. 

While crossing the lake from Kisumu to Entebbe, I 
met Captain F. Percival Mackie, of the Indian medical 
service, one of Sir David Bruce's large staff of physicians 
and nurses, just in from India on a two years' detail for 
further close study of the disease. Sir David had pre- 
ceded him a few weeks and already had established two 
hospital camps, one about midway between Kampala and 
Jinja, another to the east of Jinja, in Usoga. 

And there now on the very firing line this devoted but 
numerically puny little band of soldiers of science stands 
coolly battling, virtually at death grips, with the monster, 
the monster that, remaining uncontrolled for yet a few 
years, is the one potentiality that can quickly and surely 
make Equatorial Africa "a white man's country"; for 
while, so far, it has claimed comparatively few white 
victims, not only do the blacks easily become infected, 
but all who get it die of it. 

Indeed, cutting out, if it so chooses, the economics and 
the humanities of the local situation, could the civilized 






world realize what terrible sacrifice of human life might 
ensue if the sleeping sickness should contrive to steal 
across to European, American, or Asian shores and 
that such disaster is not impossible is proved by the fact 
that often cases have not developed until months after 
any possibility of infection, and by the further fact that it 
is not yet definitely known that the mosquito or some other 
fly than the tsetse may not communicate the disease 
scientific columns would be hastening to the front from all 
the Great Powers of the world, bent on a joint assault 
of the enemy before it is too late. 

But that the monster will be conquered before it is 
too late, the vast resources and recent accomplishments 
in bacteriology, prophylaxis, and therapy leave us every 
reason to hope, if not to expect. 

And then, the monster shackled, what of Equatorial 
Africa, socially and industrially? Logically, with the 
death rate by war stopped and by disease checked, the 
millions of blacks already occupying the central plateau 
and the lake and Nile basins must go on increasing until, 
in a few decades, they will number well-nigh all Equa- 
torial Africa can comfortably hold and support; for it is 
to be remembered that there are enormous areas of the 
more arid plateaus of British and German East that, 
while intrinsically rich as the best of our Southern Cali- 
fornia, Arizona, or New Mexico lands, no native blacks 
could subsist on if confined to limited sections, and which 
none but the most scientific modern farming could render 

And, given the survival and increase of the blacks, 
what, then, the future of the country? Of course, bar 
the arising of unthinkable conditions, Equatorial Africa 


must remain, for generations anyway, under white ad- 
ministration at least until a universal consent is reached 
to withdraw and let the blacks work out their own prob- 
lems, which is inconceivable, as meaning certain reversion 
to stark savagery. 

And throughout such period, be it long or short, it 
is inevitable that many thousands of the adventurous or 
discontented of all white nationalities will go there as 

What are their chances ? Good, capital ; none better 
anywhere, be they lazy or ambitious. 

First, with reasonable observance of the laws of 
sanitation and hygiene, whites may preserve reasonably 
average good health there, with no greater peril of malaria 
than one runs to-day in many sections of this country and 
less danger of pulmonary diseases than our climate is 
ever threatening. This opinion, I well know, is antag- 
onized by Winston Churchill, but as against him stands 
the fact that the officials, missionaries, and settlers one 
meets out there, men and women resident there anywhere 
from ten to twenty years, are obviously as sturdy, sound, 
and vigorous a lot on the average as one meets anywhere 
in the temperate zone. To be sure the little churchyards 
are not empty of gravestones nor are they long so empty 
anywhere else in the world where men have enclosed them. 
Lieutenant- Governor Jackson, C. B., C. M. G., and C. W. 
Hobley, C. M. G., of British East; S. C. Tompkins, C. M. 
G., Chief Secretary of Uganda, James Martin, and Father 
Laane, all there resident varying periods from fifteen to 
thirty years, are types of soundness and of physical and 
mental activity any man of their years would be glad and 
proud of. Nor are the men here cited exceptions; such 


types are the rule possibly, very likely in fact, because, 
precisely as Joaquin Miller once explained the high type of 
the average California Forty-niner by contending that "the 
cowards never started and the weak died on the road," so 
do few feeble of body or soul ever ship for Central African 
ports. Of course they (many of them) have " livers"; 
but, if you ask me, I believe the alleged typical "tropical 
liver" is less due to conditions climatic than to too fre- 
quent impalement by "a peg of whiskey." 

Secondly, for that hardy, tireless, stout-hearted but 
always restless though usually indolent class or type of 
pioneers of the sort to whom we are indebted for the 
winning of all North America from savagery the path- 
finders across the treeless plains; the trail-blazers through 
forests, where danger, if not death, beset them at every 
step; the venturers in frail bark craft far out over unknown 
and hostile waters; the trappers and the traders; the men 
of the coon-skin cap and squirrel rifle; the women of 
brawn and freckles and fustian frocks; the folk of the log 
cabin and the little patch of maize and potatoes for all 
such Equatorial Africa is a paradise. 

Gone are they all, do you say? Gone with the times 
and conditions that developed them ? Never will they be 
gone so long as blood flows in Anglo-Saxon veins or in 
French or German for that matter, and it's a lot we owe 
them both. Never will they be gone so long as bold 
spirits are able to find wild places where they fancy they 
find a larger independence and personal freedom than 
the teeming centres of civilization afford. 

There their beasts may stay fat the year round on the 
wild feed; no forests must be felled to build and plant; 
there a man may plant, till, or harvest every day in the 


year if he likes, or, if he be lazy, so fecund is the soil 
that a few weeks' work in the fields will keep a family 
in plenty throughout the year; there, at certain favored 
altitudes, orchards may be seen standing amid fields of 
ripening wheat, oats, and corn, wherein apples, plums, 
apricots, etc., are thriving beside oranges, lemons, bananas, 
figs, pineapples, pomegranates, papayas, while hard by 
gardens grow in profusion any and every vegetable it 
has suited the owner's fancy to plant ; there, in otherwise 
favored sections, the rubber tree, the fibre plant, sisal, 
cocoa, coffee, and a score of other plants or trees yielding 
fourfold the crop value of any products of the temperate 
zone, may be cultivated; there all about, in most parts, 
wild meat is to be had for the shooting, so one has bought 
the " small (settler's) license." Ease is there for the easy- 
going, riches for the industrious. 

And, while the local administrations don't yet fully 
appreciate it, and persist in maintaining ordinances in- 
imical to poor settlers, nevertheless it is precisely people 
of the type of the old North American pioneers, the folk 
who arrive scant of belongings, scantier still of cash, but 
rich in brawn and pluck, the sort that come with a wife 
and a string of tow-headed children, all workers at some- 
thing down to the baby in arms, that can be relied on to 
push out north and south from the Uganda Railway into 
the wilds, the best possible advance guard for the peace- 
loving plodders who quickly follow them and for whom 
they promptly make way as soon as the country is per- 
manently pacified. 

The man or family with a few thousands should not 
go there, for such are usually unsuited to life in the wilds, 
too often untrained in labor or business. The country 


has too many such already, who almost invariably fall 
hopelessly before the temptation of acquiring ten times 
more land than they have the means to develop and a 
hundred times more than they know anything about the 
profitable handling of. 

And even the worker who goes there will need to be 
a pioneer in a double sense, in his system as well as in his 
practice for there to-day no white man turns his hand 
to any form of manual labor, once he has instructed the 
blacks he employs in their tasks. But such as may go 
there with the will and spirit of the men of the West and 
North, may live in ease and plenty at the cost of no more 
than a fifth of the hard work our own early pioneers had 
to expend in order to save their young from hunger and 
shelter them from cold. 

To capitalists Equatorial Africa offers rich opportun- 
ities, but they can afford and always, properly, prefer 
to investigate for themselves. I may say, however, that, 
as the laws now stand, for operations on a large scale one 
must, to be safe, figure on indentured foreign labor, East 
Indian or off the Arabian coast, for any form of enforced 
native labor the laws rigidly forbid in British East and 
in Uganda. 

Their shambas (farms) planted and tilled by their 
women for the few weeks necessary to furnish the family 
a season's food supply, few of the native black men know 
a harder job than idling about their grazing herds through- 
out the day, weapons in hand, guarding them from attack 
by lion or leopard. Richer as they are than any equally 
savage races of history, possessed of all they need, no 
incentive remains to voluntarily engage themselves as 
laborers except as they become seized with a greed for 


the gauds the Indian bazaars display, tempted, but not to 
a point to lead them to part with their cattle. Thus com- 
paratively few are ever available for farm or other service, 
and fewer still stay long enough to become fairly adept 
at such work as they may have undertaken. And yet 
idle as they do, thieve as they may, no settler owns power 
effectively to correct or restrain them. 

Indeed, it seemed to me the humanitarians of Exeter 
Hall have been sowing the wind as they never would dream 
of doing if they themselves were personally familiar with 
local native life and conditions, and themselves had to 
toss helpless, as settlers, on the tide of native arrogance 
their silly clamor for larger license for the blacks has 
raised, a tide that one day may easily break into a 
smother of open revolt that will take a good bit of 

To-day no white man, except while on safari remote 
from any Government boma, may punish a rebellious or 
lazy black; instead, the culprit must be brought to the 
nearest boma for trial. Usually it is a sentence to im- 
prisonment he gets in the Nairobi jail or the Mombasa 
prison, according to the degree of his offence, either about 
as welcome and wholly enjoyable to the black as is her 
two weeks' vacation on a Sullivan County farm to a Wall 
Street Fluffy-Ruffles typewriter. And this when no 
white man who knows the country will contend for a 
second that any Central African black can be held to his 
work except by occasional flogging with the kiboko (whip), 
or by the dread of it. Argument, kindness, liberality 
don't go the more of these you hand out, the worse 
your labor situation becomes. But pay them fairly, feed 
them well, and let them know they will get the kiboko 


if they shirk or steal, and no better labor (at the price) 
could be desired. 

Cruel ? Inhuman ? Perhaps. But please remember 
there is nothing else for it or so I believe it will in 
the end be found except to deal with the blacks the 
only way they respect, with an iron hand, or to abandon 
them to their orgies and sacrifices, such orgies and sacri- 
fices as no story that could be told in print could give 
half an adequate idea of. 

But all these labor difficulties I expect to see mend- 
ing shortly, for the local administrations are alive to 
existing embarrassments, and settlers are loudly crying 
for relief the Colonial Office will have to grant or 
send more troops. However, it may eventually come 
about, whether by some form of coercion or by innoculat- 
ing him with new wants, only when and as the black is 
made to work can his moral uplift begin and advance to 
a point to make education of value to him. 

In German East Africa the labor situation is infinitely 
better, natives respectful and leaping at their tasks till 
the day's " stunt" is finished all because Germany 
suffers from no Exeter Hall type of misguided philan- 
thropists. Nor are the natives in German territory 
inhumanely treated, either; for knowing an iron heel is 
ever ready for their necks whenever they do wrong, they 
seldom invite its application. 



WHILE now become in many manufactured forms 
a necessity, rubber is, essentially, a luxury, - 
first, because of the relatively limited supply of 
the raw material heretofore available, the inaccessibility 
of its habitat, and the wastefully extravagant, and there- 
fore costly, methods of gathering it; secondly, because it 
supplies mankind with forms of protection, ease, and 
comfort never enjoyed before it came into commercial 
use and for which no substitute has ever been discovered, 
or, if we may believe the ablest scientists at home and 
abroad, ever will be discovered. 

And yet probably not one out of hundreds of thousands 
of those who use the 80,000,000 pairs of rubber shoes and 
boots our factories annually produce, thereby gaining 
immunity from the many perils of wet feet, or who roll 
about the world on rubber tires at such ease as nothing 
but rubber can give to man awheel, has the remotest 
idea how wild rubber is won and converted into com- 
mercial form. 

It was my privilege during the lovely equatorial month 
of November to spend three weeks in the Mabira forest 
of the Changwe District of the Uganda Protectorate. 
This forest comprises one hundred and fifty square miles 
and lies about twenty-five miles north of the equator, 
extending north from Victoria Nyanza along the west 
bank of the Nile from that river's source at Ripon Falls, 



where it issues a booming torrent from the lake, to within 
two miles of the lower end of its heaviest rapids at Owen 

Returning toward my headquarters in the Ukamba 
Province of British East Africa from the Uganda Mara- 
thon Race and the First Uganda Exhibition, of agri- 
cultural and other products, craftsmen's work, etc., held 
at Kampala, it was my good luck to come to know and 
gain the friendship of James Martin, for many years and 
up to a few months ago His Majesty's Collector of the 
Entebbe District, a man whose name, in nearly every 
book written of the discovery and conquest of the vast 
Central African region extending south from Khartoum 
to Lake Tanganyika and east from the Congo to the 
Atlantic, figures conspicuously in connection with one 
gallant deed or another, one tiresome, stubborn, in- 
domitable trek or another to the relief of some imperilled 
station or the taking of some strategical point in advance 
of the Germans or French. 

Early in the '8o's, while General Matthews was 
Prime Minister to Bergash Bin Said, Sultan of Zanzibar, 
James Martin served as his aide-de-camp and commanded 
the Sultan's forces; in 1883 it was he who guided Joseph 
Thompson from Mombasa to the head of the Nile at 
Ripon Falls, and thus was one of the first five white men 
(Speke and Grant and Stanley having preceded them) 
ever to set eyes on the bold headlands, emerald waters, 
and mirage uplifted islands of Victoria Nyanza; he who, 
in '84, served under Sir Harry Johnson in the negotia- 
tion of the first treaties with the chiefs about Mount 
Kilima N'jaro; he who, in '87-8, led a column com- 
posed of seven hundred armed Swahilis and only two 


other white men from Mombasa to and across the Nile to 
Stanley's relief at the time of his rescue of Emin Pasha, 
missing Stanley but finding four thousand of the armed 
ruffians that made up the wreck of Emin's army subsisting 
themselves by raiding and rapine, captured and brought 
them to the coast, and saw them safely shipped back to 
their old master the Khedive; he who, in 1900, signed the 
first treaty with King Mwanga that gave the Imperial 
British Company a hold on Uganda, after a desperate 
caravan journey afoot to beat the Germans, and who, later 
the same year, escorted Captain Lugard to Mengo and 
assisted in the conclusion of a final treaty establishing a 
British Protectorate. He is a bright brown eyed, grizzled 
and wrinkled but physically and mentally keen and alert 
old Africander, with a voice resonant as a Baganda war 
drum, whom all wrong-doing natives have learned to 
dread and all right-doing have learned to love, and who 
has himself made more thrilling history than most men 
ever contrive to read. 

James Martin was granted his official pension some 
years before his normal term of service was expired and 
is now gathering rubber in the Mabira forest. 

Shipmates together aboard the tight little Sybil, from 
Entebbe, via Jinja, to Kisumu, he hazarded and I was 
not slow to accept an invitation to come to stay with 
him at his headquarters in the forest. 

Arrived at Jinja just after luncheon of a fine November 
day, the equatorial sun blazing unblinking out of a 
vault of cloudless blue but the air crisp and bracing with 
the atmospheric high wine of a 4,ooo-foot altitude, we 
first went ashore for a view of Ripon Falls, the long- 




sought source of the main eastern branch of the great 
White Nile, and a view of the town. 

Out of the generously broad and deep bosom of this 
vast inland sea whose smiling waters brought us to 
Jinja, for centuries untold has poured the vitalizing 
flood that made the valley of the lower Nile the richest 
known granary of the ancient world, a prize fought for 
century in and century out, straight on down to this 
generation, from times long past even before the first 
stone was laid for the first temple ever reared to Isis. 

Napoleon Gulf, from the north end of which the Nile 
issues, is so shut in by islands it shows no entrance from 
the town and looks to be a lake; and, as if scrupulously 
greedy of hiding the source of its great wealth, the Nile 
has craftily hidden its head in a deep, sharp bend of the 
gulf where one might easily cruise within a mile of it and, 
but for its thunderous voice, never suspect its presence. 

Scarce more than twenty feet in height of actual fall, 
Ripon stretches to the majestic breadth of close upon 
three hundred yards, the water pouring down in smooth, 
black, oily folds into a hell of seething torment below, save 
where, at intervals, shrub-crested islands rise out of the 
great volcanic dyke which, away back toward the be- 
ginnings of time, imprisoned the waters of the lake, and 
through which they had slowly to gnaw their way to give 
birth to the Nile. 

Precisely here will be the head of the railway which, 
ultimately, will connect with the line slowly creeping south 
from Cairo past Khartoum. Thus by means of steamer 
connection with the north terminus of the line pushing 
up from the south and now at Broken Hills in far Northern 


Rhodesia, will the "Cape to Cairo" dream of Cecil 
Rhodes be realized. 

And here, midway of the route and therefore of the 
continent, Nature has conveniently placed power ade- 
quate, I should think, to turn all the wheels of several 
Pittsburgs, and here will be one of the greatest African 
cities of the twenty-first if not of the twentieth century. 

A lovelier climate one may not ask and hope to find. 
Hot it is in the sun from ten to three, but less oppressive 
than eighty-eight degrees in the shade in New York, 
while one may never comfortably sit outdoors at night 
without an overcoat, or sleep under less than one or two 

To be sure malarial fevers are here, but so were 
they once, in far more virulent form, in Panama. The 
tsetse fly still lurks in the noisome shade of jungle and 
elephant grass along the lake, loaded with the deadly 
germs of sleeping sickness, but now nearly all sick natives 
have been removed to islands on the lake and the healthy 
have been moved back of the known danger zone, while 
near lake towns and stations the ground has been cleared 
of all trees and undergrowth and the flies thereby measur- 
ably, perhaps, expelled from their near neighborhood. 

Aloft of the falls and the rapids below the air swarms 
with fisher fowl, keen after the finny giants that are 
ever leaping in the rapids or boldly mounting at the 
steep falling waters of the falls themselves, while hun- 
dreds of crocodiles lie, apparently basking in the sun 
but alert for victims, on islands and along the shores 
of the river. 

To-day Jinja contains nothing besides the dwellings 
and offices of Sub-Commissioner A. G. Boyle, C. M. G., 


and staff of two or three assistants, the post and telegraph 
office, the police barracks, and a small native village; 
but, if I am not badly mistaken, before this article can 
possibly get to press the building of a railway at least 
forty-five miles north from Jinja to Lake Kioga, a very 
rich and densely populated district, will be authorized 
from London and work actually begun, and not many 
months after another strategic railway line will be pushing 
west from Kioga to Lake Albert Nyanza and its navigable 
water route toward Khartoum. 

After dinner aboard the Sybil, a forty-foot Baganda 
war canoe manned by twenty natives at racing pace 
ferried us the mile across the bay to Bogongo, the landing 
for Mabira, where we spent the night, lulled to sleep by 
Ripon's mighty voice, toned down to soft cadence by 
intervening distance, to sleep so soundly that the quick- 
mounting equatorial sun was half up behind Buvuma 
Island before we awoke and turned out, to see the 
mists rising from Ripon's torment a tall cloud of yellowest 
gold, sharply outlined against its dark olive green Nile- 
side background. 

Breakfast over, our beds and luggage were quickly 
transferred to the heads of sturdy Baganda porters, sixty 
pounds to the head, and we started in two rickshaws on 
the fourteen-mile journey to Mabira. 

For the first half of the distance the path was heavy, 
undried from the showers of the previous night, for the 
season was that of the "little rains," lasting through 
November and December, during which the days are 
bright and cloudless but every night there is a downpour. 
So on we slowly plodded through black mud, shut in 
between solid walls of fifteen-foot elephant grass on either 


hand, out of which we sometimes saw rising the tops of 
the mimosa and of candelabrum cactus. 

Throughout the four-hour journey the path was lined 
with an almost solid procession of natives, travelling 
single file to the lake, the chiefs striding haughtily along 
in long, black, short-caped, Spanish-like cloaks, each fol- 
lowed by a band of musicians beating deep-booming 
drums, twanging at their not unmusical progenitor of 
the banjo, blowing tirelessly into shrill-shrieking ivory 
flutes, while behind the band trailed their half-naked 
chair bearers and porters loaded with their wares. 

Stop the drumbeat on a march and instantly a quick- 
moving column of native porters becomes a dawdling 
mob ; stop their songs in the field or at the rickshaw and 
at once a group of cheery, hard workers is transformed 
into slouching, dull-faced idlers. 

To right and left along the way we passed small 
banana plantations and groups of low grass huts half 
hid among them, the monotony of their dull gray walls 
only relieved by bright red hanging clusters of drying 
chillies and by the low, black, oval doorways that give the 
only access to their smoke-begrimed interiors. 

About these hut villages women were idling, or digging 
in their adjacent shambas. Here in Uganda, more 
modest than their Kavirondo sisters about Kisumu, who 
never are clothed more heavily than was Mother Eve 
herself, all women wear from morn till night most fetch- 
ing evening dress costume, the laso, wound tightly about 
the body from the hips to just above the outer swell of 
the breasts and falling in by no means ungraceful folds 
to the feet, loose robes of any many brilliant colors, 
usually to the exposure of handsomely turned arms and 


shoulders no paler wearer of evening dress would be 
anything but proud of. 

But few children are seen, for the Baganda are 
probably the most conspicuous living exponents of race 
suicide. Always poor breeders, from reasons of extreme 
immorality, and in the past recruiting their race by raids 
and capture of the sturdier women of Usoga, now that 
raiding has stopped and sleeping sickness has come among 
the Baganda, their numbers are dwindling rapidly. 

At length leaving the elephant grass, we took a plunge 
into and through a corner of Mabira forest, by a good 
broad road made as an outlet to Jinja for rubber and 
timber, a forest beautiful as could be conjured by the 
most fertile fancy as the last ideal of a tropical paradise. 
Giant Fecus towered eighty to one hundred feet in height, 
and slender, graceful Funtumnia Elastica, the prime rub- 
ber tree here indigenous, leaped fifty feet without limb or 
sprout, straight of trunk as a spear shaft, and crested 
with a narrow and shallow spread of boughs, the long, 
sharp-pointed tips of whose leaves, silvered by sunlight 
filtering through the taller forest canopy, look like the 
gleaming spear points of a waiting Baganda war host. 
Portly, straight-growing mahogany and other forest tree 
growth of infinite variety are there, many wound from 
ground to top with mighty parasitic vines of a sort that, 
serpent-like in habit as in appearance, often finish by 
crushing and smothering the very life out of the tree itself, 
after first feeding and fattening at its expense, until naught 
remains of its once magnificent proportions and virile life 
but a shrivelling, rotting core within the thick vine folds 
that have wrought its ruin. Everywhere are thick festoons 
of delicate flowering creepers that, high aloft, look fine 


and fragile as lacework, broad-leaved plantain-like fern 
growths nestling tight to giant boles high aloft, and, lastly, 
those very spirits of all plant life, the air-feeding orchids, 
beautiful, intangible almost as a spirit, drooping idly 
from lofty boughs. It is a forest noisy with the merry 
chatter of monkeys and brilliant with the flitting of parrots, 
swarming with timid, tiny duyker antelope a scant eight- 
een inches long, a forest at first glance all smiles and 
beauty and charm for every sense, and yet a forest whose 
dusky recesses are as sinister of oblivion as the very grave 

Peril, deadly peril to life, attends your every 
step. Powerful-jawed and sharp-toothed python often 
eighteen feet long, lie along low-lying limbs, watching 
for quarry. Green and black mambas fast as a good 
pony are ever slipping about through the undergrowth. 
Indolent cobra de capello and puff adders are always 
to be closely watched for, as too lazy even to try to 
get out of your way, their bite certain death in a few 
minutes (if instant remedy is not at hand) like that of 
the mamba, and their colors blending so perfectly with 
prevailing forest hues that rarely do any but natives see 
them until right upon them. Gigantic hippos at night 
roam far back from the still pools of the larger streams 
they pass the day in. At any turn of a path through either 
forest or tall elephant grass a mob of buffalo may sweep 
down upon and over you, though usually when in mobs 
and unattacked they pass you by, but come suddenly on 
a lone bull, or wound one, and usually you confront a 
finish fight, with a mighty beast quick of foot as a panther, 
armed with sharp horns often of more than four-foot 
spread. Hideous crocodiles, hated alike of man and 


beast and sparing none, the giant Nilotic sort close to 
twenty feet long, lie near swamp or stream margins so 
log-like that even natives have stepped upon them before 
seeing them, only to be laid helpless before the cruel jaws 
by a sweep of the mighty tail. Lastly, all about swarm 
crowds of mosquitoes and flies, often charged with 
malarial infection that, apparently, all must ultimately 
fall prey to who escape the reptiles and the beasts. 

A very hell amidst heaven is a Nileside forest, and 
yet, with all its hazards, a place where white men may 
go and come unscathed for years, as have indeed such 
men as Lieut.-Gov. Jackson, C. B., C. M. G. (now of B. 
E. A.), ex-H. M. Collector James Martin, Chief Secretary 
S. C. Tomkins, C M. G., Sub-Commissioner A. G. Boyle, 
C. M. G., and others of their fellow empire builders in 
Equatorial Africa, if only they know their way about. 

Emerging from the forest toward noon, before us on 
three close-clustering hills rising three or four hundred 
feet out of the valley, stood the Mabira headquarters 
buildings, on one side the executive offices, on another 
Mr. Martin's bungalow, on another the staff quarters, 
while down to the left, in a bend of forest near the stream, 
nestled the factory buildings, where the crude latex 
(milk) is washed, coagulated, and boxed in hundred- 
pound packages for shipment to market. 

The most modern methods are here employed, tapping 
being done with locally devised tools considered an im- 
provement on those used by the Para rubber planters 
of Ceylon, and washing and coagulation by scientific 
methods, which, through perfect cleaning, etc., adds 
largely to the market value of the product. 

A rubber tree is nine years in maturing in the forest, 


but may be tapped for from one-quarter to one-half pound 
by the seventh year; after eight years, by full tapping top 
to bottom the trees should yield three-quarters to one pound 
to the tree. 

The hundred and fifty square miles of this forest 
are subdivided into blocks of four square miles, with 
broad paths along the base lines between blocks, and 
many narrow tapping paths penetrating each block. 
Trees are carefully searched out and counted in each 
block as fast as surveyed, until now five hundred thou- 
sand full-bearing trees have been tallied, with much land 
still unsearched, and hundreds of thousands of Nature- 
sown seedlings coming on. 

Tapping is done in the rainy season, which here means 
ten tapping months in the year. But tapping can only 
be done when trees are dry. However, since nearly all 
the rain falls at night, tree trunks are usually dry enough 
for tapping by 9 A. M. The tapper finishes his tapping 
shortly after midday, bringing his day's take of latex 
(of anywhere from one to five pounds) to his local station 
in the evening, whence it is carried early the next morning 
to the factory at headquarters. 

So far the maximum number of tappers used is about 
five hundred, the remainder of the total of two thousand 
blacks here employed being engaged on road and path 
making, factory labor, clearing land, and planting Para 
rubber or other crops, and on the completion of head- 
quarters and station buildings. 

Since April, 1908, about twenty-five tons have been 
shipped, thus assuring a total yield this year of not less 
than seventy tons, worth in London an average of at 
least four shillings per pound ($i) or, gross, S8o,ooo, which 




as nearly as I can estimate is produced at a total outlay, 
including new machinery, buildings and freight duties, 
and administrative expenses, of $60,000, thus leaving 
$20,000 as profit on a total cash investment to date not 
much in excess of $100,000. 

Next year, the third, with installation of new machinery, 
factory and station construction, road making, etc., all 
finished, the output should be an increase of fifty per 
cent to one hundred per cent on that of this year and 
expense should lessen at least twenty-five per cent; and 
I can see no reason why after the fourth or fifth year the 
forest should not be shipping between one hundred and 
fifty and two hundred tons per year. 

Moreover, rubber making expense is sure to continue 
to decrease through revenue derived from fuel and timber 
sales. The forest is full of superb woods, especially the 
muvule, which is much like the best walnut timber, and 
Nysambia, which closely resembles good beech in appear- 
ance and quality. While remote from large markets for 
profitable shipment in wholesale quantities, local demand 
for timber and fuel can probably be relied on for profit 
sufficient to cover a part of the cost of maintenance of 
roads and paths through the forest and to the lake. 

Monday morning there arrived at the factory five 
hundred pounds of latex as the product of Saturday's 
tree tapping, a thin, milk-white fluid which at the factory 
is poured into big tanks; Tuesday, seven hundred pounds, 
and Wednesday, nine hundred and twenty pounds came. 

Given average good quality in the latex extracted, and 
here it produces fifty per cent in net rubber of its gross 
weight, the profit in rubber making lies in its rapid and 
economical washing, by which it is cleaned of all foreign 


substances, contained resins, etc.; its coagulation and 
pressing into thin sheets or ribbons which at a glance 
show buyers their absolute purity in net rubber; its dry- 
ing, smoking, and packing for shipment. 

Oddly here, in these equatorial African jungles, whence 
heretofore rubber has never been gathered and made except 
by the most crude, wasteful, and uncleanly native methods, 
and while over ninety per cent of the vast Brazilian, 
Central and South American product is even to this day. 
after a generation of experience, still taken and prepared 
for market by unsuperintended Indians at a waste in 
one way and another of more than a third of its value, 
here in Central Africa the last resources of science are 
employed to produce chemically pure rubber at minimum 

Generally in Africa and in Central and South America 
coagulation of the latex is obtained only by rubbing lime 
juice or other acid along the incisions hi the tree trunks, 
or by catching the latex in cups and fetching it to camp, 
dipping broad, thin, paddle-shaped blades of wood in the 
latex and holding it in the smoke of burning palm nuts 
until coagulation is finished, and repeating this process 
until a thick "ham" is so accumulated. In both pro- 
cesses no contained resin is eliminated, much bark, dirt, 
and even stones are often incorporated in the mass, and 
a high moisture content remains, leaving the manufacturer 
always buying more or less of a pig in a poke and paying 
freight on a lot of waste material. 

But a new era opened in rubber production a decade 
ago with the demonstration in Ceylon that rubber forests 
may be successfully and profitably grown from artificially 
planted seed. And as from year to year more capital had 


to be poured into these plantations to insure their proper 
care and the sound maturity of the trees, chemistry began 
to be ransacked for improved methods of coagulation and 
mechanical art for better tools and machinery for tapping 
the trees and cleaning and curing the rubber, with the 
result that the cultivated Para rubber of Ceylon fetches 
in the London market from eight to twenty-two cents a 
pound more than the best fine hard Para taken from wild 

And now here in the heart of the Uganda Protectorate, 
within a few miles of the scene of Stanley's heaviest fight- 
ing thirty years ago, and in a region where the pacification 
of the country has only been accomplished by almost 
continuous punitive operations by the stout-hearted little 
staff of British civil and military officials who, with a hand- 
ful of Soudanese and Sikhs, have taken and held the coun- 
try for the Crown, operations that often involved heavy 
fighting, and have continued down to a few months ago, 
here in the equatorial wilderness the best Ceylon methods 
have been materially improved, both in tapping and 
coagulation; better tools have been devised for stripping 
the outer bark off a desired incision line, a hooked blade 
that cuts an even depth and width, and a set of spur-like 
roller blades for quickly running along incision lines and 
tapping the latex cells, whfle prolonged experiment here 
by Chemist John Hughes has at last yielded a down 
(chemical formula) which coagulates the latex almost 
instantaneously at a cost of one-tenth of a cent per pound. 

When work begins in the morning a bucket of boiling 
water, the hotter the better, containing a scant ounce of 
the dawa, is poured into a Nysambia trough made on 
the place, three feet long, about eight inches wide, and 


eight inches deep, into which is immediately poured five 
pints of latex. Instantly the yellow resins and foreign 
substances are eliminated and taken up in suspension by 
the hot water, and within one and one-half minutes a 
thick mass of clean rubber is formed which is carried to 
and passed three times through steam-driven rolls that 
press out the moisture and give it form, from which it 
comes out a beautiful milk-white strip of what the market 
calls "crope" rubber, ten feet long and six inches wide, 
deeply stamped with diamond-shaped figures, the centre 
of each diamond thin, the outlines thick, that at a little 
distance make the ribbons look like strips of lace, about 
two and one-third pounds, the product of five pints of latex. 

These strips are hung in a steam-heated drying room 
until all moisture is expelled, then matured or " cured" 
in the smoke room, in the creosote-laden fumes of a wood 
fire, which renders it proof against all forms of attack by 
bacteria and consequent decomposition. 

From the smoke room the strips issue of the palest 
amber tint and are folded and packed, under high pressure, 
in hundred-pound boxes for shipment. 

Thus Monday's latex is by the next succeeding Mon- 
day converted into the highest type of commercial rubber 
and on its road to market, where, as now cleaned and 
prepared, the product of these wild Funtumnia Elastica 
trees is commanding as high a price as the best culti- 
vated Para. 

And notwithstanding prevailing high export duties 
and unreasonably excessive freight rates between Mabira 
and Mombasa, I can see no reason why within another 
year this product should not be laid down in London at a 
cost well inside of forty cents per pound. 



The first week of my visit I spent in and about the 
factory and offices. The third day, the big native chief 
of Kioga District arrived, attired in a well-fitting Norfolk 
jacket, and boasting a silver watch chain, a nickeled police- 
man's whistle, and sandals for decorations, followed by 
his ministers, court band, and a hundred nondescript 
followers. Returning from the Exhibition at Kampala, 
he stopped to pay a visit to his old friend Martin, who 
employs some hundreds of his subjects, and to see the 
wonders of the new rubber factory. 

After the inspection Mr. Hughes handed him a bottle 
of ammonia to smell, as a sample of the dawa used in 
coagulation. At the first whiff he nearly threw a back 
somersault and then, as salve for his wounded dignity, 
proceeded to compel every last one of his followers, down 
to the meanest porters, to take a stiff whiff of the bottle, 
holding the noses of several tight to its mouth until they 
were near strangling. 

Of evenings, dining in a bungalow heavy with the 
sweet scent of the scores of rose bushes and violet beds 
that hedge it round about, what with my host's fascinat- 
ing stories of stirring incidents of the early days of Uganda 
empire building, delicious curries so hot they would make 
Hades feel like a skating rink, weird Arab dishes, "mus- 
catis " and " pillous," that would conjure new joys for 
the most blase gourmet, lettuce and water cress tender as 
true charity, palate-tickling combinations of tomatoes and 
anchovy paste, fresh pines juicy and sweet (almost) as the 
lips you best love, and Chianti that makes you want to 
kick somebody's hat off, Mabira has taken permanent 
lodgement among the dearest treasures of my memory. 

Indeed, if, after death, my spirit contrives to have 


quite its own way, more than likely any interested will 
find it wandering in some dusky nook or bright glade of 
the Mabira forest, near to Kiko's smiling face and not 
far from the red bungalow on the hill. 

The last week of my visit to Mabira was spent in a 
tour of the forest with my host to the outlying stations, 
from Mbango, the headquarters, to Kiwala, to Wan- 
tarunta, to Lochfyne, etc., stations usually eight to twelve 
miles apart, each in charge of a canny Scotch forester, 
with a Goanese clerk and timekeeper and Goanese gang 

The journey was very comfortably made, the host 
in a rickshaw and I on a tall, gray, country-bred pony, 
through miles of beautiful forest cool of midday and chill 
of evening, through patches of open country and elephant 
grass in the burning sun, across swamps ringed round with 
tall, feathery date palms and wild figs, along the wide 
belt of papyrus reeds that for miles fill the entire channel 
and valley of the Seziwa River, the Nile's first important 
tributary, from the west below Ripon. 

And whether along the forty miles of twelve-foot main 
road or the two hundred miles of base line and still nar- 
rower tapping paths, the latter sometimes fifty yards apart 
and sometimes a thousand, according to the plenty or 
scarcity of tapable trees, ever about us rose the tall silver- 
gray shafts of the Funtumnia, sometimes standing singly, 
sometimes in close clusters of a dozen or twenty, each bear- 
ing the brown scars of the tapper's knife. 

One could follow the running, singing, laughing band 
of Baganda tappers into the dusky forest glades to their 
work if his wind held out and he could keep his neck 
from entanglement in the thick network of vines that 


canopy the tapping paths, and the dread of snakes 
thicker here than even in the worst dreams of the most 
bibulous out of his mind, but to photograph them 
at their work the shades forbid. 

The station buildings are usually set on well-cleared 
hillcrests, the superintendents' houses neat bungalows, 
roofed with tin, whose walls, lintels, and door and window 
frames are made of the bamboo-like stems of the elephant 
grass, bound together with strands of fibrous bark, quickly 
and cheaply made, but snug and cool. 

Of evenings, the near-by native hut villages are ringing 
with the shouts and laughter and all sorts of merrymak- 
ing horse play, including wrestling matches not widely 
differing from or inferior to the Graeco-Roman style. 

Not content with Mabira's native wealth hundreds of 
acres about Mbango and the outlying stations are cleared 
and planted with Para and Funtumnia, with sisal, cocoa, 
coffee, croton-oil plant, indigo, citronella, cassava, ba- 
nanas, sweet potatoes, pines, papayas, crops that, in the 
thick black loam that makes all Uganda like to the most 
luxuriant garden, yield in profits per acre two to four 
times that realized on temperate- zone farming. 

Nor is this work in any measure groping or experi- 
ment, for it is under the direction of Ernest Brown, for- 
merly an assistant in the botanical gardens of Entebbe, 
where for years careful study and demonstration have been 
going on to prove what commercially valuable tree and 
plant life thrives best here. There it has been proved that, 
while the Castilloa Elastica of Central America apparently 
matures well it yields no latex; that Para trees 4 years 
old may measure at 3 feet from the ground up to 18} 
inches, and i6j at 6 feet; 7-year-old trees up to 27^ inches 


at 3 feet and 23^ inches at 6 feet, and at the latter age 
may be relied on for J pound to the tree, while after 9 years 
they are good for i pound ; that sisal produces 3 per cent 
of net fibre against the prime yield of 3? per cent in 
German East African coast plantations, where sisal plan- 
ters are netting profits up to 80 per cent. 

These are dry statistics, perhaps, at first glance, but 
vital to rubber and fibre manufacturers and users of our 
own country, vital to our ever swelling surplus capital seek- 
ing safe and profitable employment abroad, absorbing 
to the thousands of the more adventurous of our younger 
generation, sons of the men who tackled and tamed the 
trans- Missouri region and whose blood cries out for 
chance of like exploits and opportunities. 

For myself as an old pioneer of wild places, and recall- 
ing how twenty-five years ago we used to hustle and com- 
pete for arid tracts of grazing land at fifty cents to two 
dollars an acre, in northwest Texas and New Mexico, 
lands valueless for anything but grazing and that would 
carry no more than one head of cattle to fifteen acres, 
how the farms of the eastern and central States had to 
be hewn out of solid walls of forest and in many places 
the soil delved for among rocks, in a climate where a 
year's work had to be crowded into half a year to keep man 
and beast from perishing during the other half, it is tre- 
mendously impressive to see in British East Africa lands 
that will easily carry a head of cattle to each acre and keep 
them fat, or, here in Uganda, millions of acres under no 
heavier growth than elephant grass whose every square 
foot is rich and moist as the soil in a nursery pot. This 
land, besides its high-priced tropical products, grows in big 
yield (at one point or another, according to altitude and 


rainfall) most of the grains, vegetables, and fruits of the 
temperate zone. These lands are available to all comers 
at two rupees (sixty-six cents) the acre, often at less, while 
native labor is so abundant at four to six rupees a month 
that no white man here ever turns a finger to manual 
task, labor rightly handled that gives the employer 
quite as much as the average day labor at home, while 
good East Indian carpenters, iron workers, wheelwrights, 
masons, etc., are available at fifty to sixty-five rupees, 
or sixteen to twenty-one dollars, per month! 

To be sure it is not all beer and skittles here. Freight 
rates are shockingly exorbitant, but so were they once on 
the Southern Pacific and other Western roads; land 
and other laws are crude and need a lot of mending; 
the Colonial Office is greedy and none too considerate 
of the settler. But against all this the local administra- 
tions, here and in British East, are doing all for the de- 
velopment of the country that could be expected while 
the Colonial Office persists in entangling all local official- 
dom in a bewildering maze of East Indian bureaucratic 
red tape, and settlers are sending up persistent cries for 
saner laws, simpler official forms, cheaper freights, and 
more rational taxation not much longer to be denied 
even by the mustiest and thriftiest of the Crown's colonial 

My visit ended, I reached Bogongo a day ahead of the 
next mail steamer. 

Rising at dawn and taking a shotgun for birds and 
a heavy .38 pistol on the chance of a crack at a crocodile, 
I started in my host's great sixty-foot canoe for a cruise 
along the reeds of the lake shore and to get a view of 
Ripon Falls from the west. 


Just as I was stepping into the canoe, near at hand up- 
rose a true Nile ibis and a lovely, lavender-hued, crested 
crane. Dropping them with a right and left, I sent 
them to the house for approval, and three hours later had 
the ibis, beautifully roasted, for breakfast, dark, tender 
meat, in flavor much like prairie chicken, while the 
crane was condemned for everything but personal beauty. 

As we glided gently along through alternating patches 
of lotus pads, reeds, and still shallows, never have I seen 
predatory life active in such varied forms and on such 
colossal scale. 

Beneath me in the shallows big fish were darting 
savagely after the little ones. Above, a sort of black 
and white kingfisher poised stationary, with chin bent 
tight to chest, sharp beak downpointed, fierce little eyes 
hungrily searching the depths forty or fifty feet below him, 
wings beating so rapidly to maintain his poise you could 
scarce see them, and then down straight at his quarry 
like a lump of lead he would drop, disappearing entirely 
under water for a second or two, to rise full or empty 
clawed, according to hunter's luck. 

Along the lake shore the air positively swarmed with 
insect life, chiefly flies individually so small you can 
scarce see them. Often in mid-lake for miles gray to 
black columns may be seen rising several hundred feet 
from the water that look like the smoke of freshly stoked 
steamer fires, but which are really swarms of tiny flies, 
which, once your vessel runs into them, shut out all view 
like the densest fog, and, if at night, extinguish all lights. 

All about me on the lotus pads dainty little lemon- 
hued birds were hopping about industriously picking for 
their insect breakfast, while aloft, at times, the air was 


fairly black with swallows darting hither and yon like 
the aerial corsairs they are, to whom all flies are prey. 
V-shaped flights of black divers big as wild geese were ever 
passing, or groups of them standing on the little rock 
pinnacles that rise a few feet above the water near to the 
falls, wings extended "spread eagle" fashion and lazily 
flapping, apparently a sort of "warming up" for a deep 
plunge after passing fish. 

Distant, narrow, black lines on the water that dis- 
appeared as I advanced were the heads of crocodiles, too 
wary to permit of near approach by boat. 

Returning soaking wet from a half-mile walk through 
bush and long grass, from the old Stanley crossing to 
Ripon, to get a snapshot of the west end of the falls, out 
in the lake nearly a mile from shore we sighted a big 
hippo bull, floating, full length exposed, near two small 
jutting rocks covered with divers. 

I tried to slip in for a close camera shot, but when 
within a hundred yards he dropped all but his head below 
water, and fearing to lose him altogether, I so snapped 

Meantime, the canoe having drifted to within some 
eighty yards, the fancy struck me to have a try at him 
with my pistol, the upper third of his head being in 
full view. The first shot was a trifle too high, but at 
the second I thought I had him, we plainly heard the 
"smash" of the ball upon or into the great bony head, 
my boys yelled "Pigal PigaV (Hit! Hit!), and with a 
snort he rose full body ,out of water and plunged down, 
leaving a narrow red ribbon of blood twining among the 

Then for about an hour he rose at minute to half- 


minute intervals for air, but only for an instant's exposure 
of the tips of the nostrils, which, try hard as I could, gave 
me no chance of landing another shot, sometimes driving 
to right and left in his dives, again in circles, too much 
dazed to follow usual wounded hippo tactics of a rush 
for shore and the reeds. 

My only chance of hitting him again lay in a square 
charge of the boat, which often the hippo makes, with 
full head exposure as he rushes open-mouthed and at an 
eight-knot pace for a crunch of your boat gun\vale. 
If on such a rush one waits until he is within a few feet 
of the boat, a deadly shot is not difficult. But no such 
charge did he make. Once he rose within twenty feet 
of us, but apparently by accident, for it was only for a 
second's exposure of great nostrils that looked like the 
business end of a young double-barrelled cannon. Nor 
were the next few seconds, until, having passed squarely 
beneath us, he rose two hundred feet on the other side 
of us, overcharged with comfort, for one of the worst 
things a hippo can hand you on Nyanza is to rise beneath 
the canoe, usually smashing it and upsetting you into 
water swarming with crocodiles as the air is with fowl. 

After an hour of these frequent rises and dives he 
disappeared, dead I am forced to believe, though, not- 
withstanding I had the water watched till night, he did 
not rise. Of course since the affair finished a scant half- 
mile above the falls, an undercurrent may have swept 
him down, or, maybe, hippo have the "funnybone" 
in the head and it was that I hit, for rarely will a head shot 
from the heaviest rifle kill a hippo unless driven straight 
into the brain through nostril or behind the eye, and to 


have so scored with a pistol at the distance is rather too 
much to flatter oneself. 

However, all this happened only yesterday, the yes- 
terday of this writing, and perhaps a wire may bring me 
in the next few days news of a trophy retrieved worth 
while, for Provincial Commissioner A. G. Boyle, C. M. G., 
of Jinja, kindly promised to have his Askaris watch and 
search waters and shores. 



LIKE most other things, sport is essentially relative. 
Doubtless all true sportsmen will agree that the 
greater the hazard of limb and life one incurs in 
any sport, the greater, the more fascinating, the sport 

Who that has ever battled with an outlaw bronco 
or held a headstrong, half-broken hunter to his work 
across stiff country, could drive a trotting race and 
find it better than tame? Who that has run the Gati- 
neau's boiling rapids and thundering chutes in a canoe 
could get much of a thrill paddling about Lake Placid, 
wondering if he is ever going to get a "bite"? What 
scarred centre rush, hero of a score of terrible tussles 
that sap the last ounce of nerve and muscle in a man, 
could find a satisfactory -quickening of the pulse in a game 
of ninepins ? Who that has known the fierce joy of pulling 
his very heart out on his Varsity crew could long abide 
a house-boat ? Who that has held the wheel of a ninety- 
horse-power racing car through the thrills and perils of a 
long-distance race, every sense alert and strained to the 
breaking point from start to finish, could get his own 
consent to ride a gymkhana donkey race ? 

And, judged by such standard, compared to the best 
big game shooting North or South America ever afforded, 
that of Africa towers aloft in all the scornful majesty 
characteristic of a "tablestake" poker player watching 



a game of "craps." Not only will the African rhino, 
elephant, buffalo, and lion carry comfortably quite as 
much lead as even the grizzly bear, and the two former 
much more, but they are far quicker to charge and faster 
of pace. The grizzly you can outfoot, if you can't kill 
him, by running transversely to the slope of a steep 
hill. But even on a good Basuto or Somali pony you 
are not safe against the charge of a lion with less than 
forty yards' start, and not in one out of a hundred lion 
encounters does the sportsman have a horse beneath him 
or at hand. 

The habitat of the lion is wherever his subjects, 
the game, are thickest, on the low bush veldt near the 
coast, on the high veldt of the interior. He is more than 
the King of Beasts, for he is far and away the first true 
gentleman of his court. As a rule he seeks no trouble 
with man, and usually he will do all that could possibly 
comport with his kingly dignity to avoid it. Often he 
will leave his feast on a fresh kill at man's approach. 
Seldom if ever do lions become man-eaters, deliberate, 
predatory raiders of villages or camps for human food, 
until so old they have found difficulty in taking even 
zebra . their easiest prey, and through stress of hunger or 
by some unhappy chance have learned that man is easier 
and perhaps (who but lion know?) tenderer still. But 
once he gets the knowledge and the taste, woe to belated 
night travellers through his bailiwick, woe to villagers or 
night campers unprotected by a thorn zareba (fence) he 
cannot leap, for so softly and silently does he steal upon 
his victim, so crushing deadly is his grip upon the neck, 
so mighty his strength in tossing his kill across his shoulders 
and slipping easily away with it, that very often naught 


of his raid is known until those sleeping near awake to 
find an empty bed, and blood along a spoor which plainly 
shows he has bounded away with their comrade in mighty 
leaps, free and light as those of a cat crunching a mouse. 

So not long ago on the Guaso Nyiro died young 
McClellan. After a good day's sport he retired, alone, to 
his bed, surrounded by the tents of his escort and the 
sleeping forms of his porters. Twenty feet in front of the 
tent blazed a great camp fire. Back and forth through 
the centre of the camp paced an Askari sentry, rifle on 
shoulder. Along came a hungry man-eater. While un- 
seen until too late, the facts proved that he must have 
thoroughly prospected the camp, for along its outskirts 
lay easy picking, the sleeping natives. But, perhaps 
surfeited with black meat, or inspired by the pride of his 
royal blood to disdain it while rarer spoil lay near, straight 
to the Bwana's tent he penetrated and into it entered, all 
so cunningly that his presence was unsuspected until. 
bounding off with McClellan's limp body across his 
shoulder, and partly blinded by the firelight, he cannoned 
into and bowled over the Askari ; and when the next day 
the headman of McClellan's party brought to the scene 
Deputy Commissioner Collyer from his near-by station of 
Rumuruti, the body was found near camp, unmarked 
save for the mangled and broken neck. Doubtless the 
Askaris' random shots had frightened the lion away, and 
cries and drum beatings kept up all night by the natives 
had served to prevent his return. 

Nor was it more than a few weeks later, when Deputy 
Commissioner Collyer was on safari in the same neigh- 
borhood, that a lion entered his camp, slipped his paw 
beneath a tent and caught a Kikuyu by the ear, tearing 


away the lobe and a part of his cheek. The yells of the 
victim stirred the camp to shooting and shrieking that 
made Leo retire. But he scored all the same, a few 
days later the Kikuyu died of shock. 

While ranked along with his third cousin, the leopard, 
as vermin in even the closest protected sections of Africa, 
as a marauding outlaw all comers are free to shoot with- 
out a license, nevertheless, in his prime he is a foeman 
well worthy of the best man the love of sport brings against 
him. Come face to face with him at three to ten paces 
at the turning of a bush, pass in the tall grass within a 
few feet of a hidden lioness and her cherished tawny 
pups, pursue or wound him when he is temperately retir- 
ing, usually at slow and dignified pace, from the proffered 
gage of your presence, and it is far worse than an even 
chance that you confront a case of kill or be killed ; for, 
once he charges, usually it is a battle to the death, with 
odds against you even though he receives a mortal wound 
before, as in his customary tactics, his claws are in 
your shoulder and his white fangs leaping at your throat. 
For while few sportsmen are killed outright, on the spot, 
by lion in these days of high power rifles, once a lion 
has mauled you with his carrion-tearing teeth or claws, 
nothing can prevent death of blood-poisoning but the im- 
mediate and most thorough disinfection of the wounds, 
or, if this is lacking, an early amputation, where a surgeon 
can be reached. 

As chiefly a night prowler, like all predatory savages, 
biped and quadruped alike, it is just hunter's luck when 
you get a chance at a lion. 

Of six months spent in the plains and bush of British 
East Africa, a full forty days, all told, I occupied ex- 


clusively hunting lion in country where they had been 
thick about our camp every night, often when they had 
sought entry to our boma, twice when they had made 
kills within a few yards of where we slept, without yet 
getting sight of one. 

I have followed their fresh spoor through long grass 
and mimosa thickets where one could not see more than 
the length of a gun barrel ; trailed them into their very 
caves and stood, expectant, while my shikaris tried to 
stone them out or taunt them to action with buzzing 
Somali expletives; risen before dawn, forded crocodile- 
infested rivers in the dark, stumbled through bush and 
hidden bowlders to some den marked down the day before, 
and there lain concealed until an hour or more after dawn 
in hope of sighting them on return from their night's foray, 
but all without avail. 

At first I found it most nerve-racking work, but now 
I don't seem to mind, whether because I'm getting used 
to it or because repeated failures have left me skeptical of 
each new start, I don't know. Indeed, I was beginning 
to harbor fears that, like Tartarin de Tarascon, my lion- 
slaying must ever remain merely a hyper-heroic figment of 
my dreams, until a few days ago I learned that Ronan 
Wallaston Humphrey, the District Commissioner at 
Machakos Fort, twenty-five miles from Juja Farm, where 
I am a guest, a keen sportsman who has shot about every- 
thing else, was in the country eight years before he saw 
his first lion; and that another equally keen sportsman, 
Chief Secretary S. C. Tomkins, C. M. G., of Uganda, 
here twelve years, has never yet seen a lion except from 
a train. So that, while I can as little count on eight more 
months in the lion country as, at my age, I can venture 


to count upon eight more years on earth, my hopes have 

And why, indeed, should not one hope, when, in the 
short space of eighteen months, no less than twenty men, 
sportsmen or settlers all, have been killed or badly mauled 
by lion within a radius of thirty miles of Juja Farm, and 
twelve lion have been killed within three miles of the 
farm in the same time ? 

The Lucas tragedy was characteristic. Lucas and 
Goldfinch were partners in a farm on the western slopes 
of Donya Sabouk, ten miles from Juja. One day the 
pair jumped a lion, in tall grass near the Athi River, 
which retired at their approach. After him they raced 
on ponies, Goldfinch in the lead. But Leo's retreat was 
only a stroke of strategy, he sidestepped them into 
concealing long grass, only to leap upon Goldfinch and 
his horse as they passed, sinking his right fore claws in the 
pony's right flank, his left in Goldfinch's left thigh, his 
rear claws tearing at the pony's hind quarter. 

The mixup was such that Goldfinch could not bring 
his gun to bear on the lion and that Lucas did not dare 
to shoot from the saddle, so, jumping from his pony, 
Lucas ran forward to his partner's aid. But their watch- 
ful enemy was not so easily to be taken in flank, for before 
Lucas got to a position where he could safely fire, the 
lion leaped upon him and began rending him. No more 
was he down, however, before Goldfinch, badly torn 
though he was of the lion's claws, slipped from his horse, 
ran in, and gave the lion a shot through the heart that 
laid him dead. 

Yet, while scarce a minute had elapsed since he firs-t 
struck Lucas, Leo had taken his toll ; Lucas was so badly 


mauled that, what with the delay in getting him into the 
Nairobi Hospital and the severity of the wounds, the 
surgeons found naught but an amputation could save 
his life. This Lucas stubbornly refused, vowed he 
would rather die than live as a maimed man. 

And die a few days later he did, in a manner typical 
of his dauntless soul. The evening the surgeons told 
him he could not last the night out, to his bedside he 
summoned two of his closest pals, "Daddy" Longworth 
and another. And there throughout the night they sat, 
Lucas bolstered on pillows, drinking whiskey and soda; 
Lucas toasting them a long life, they him a Happy Hunt- 
ing Ground in the next \vorld, until, just as the first pale 
flush of the brief tropical dawn began to dim the candles, 
the two watchers suddenly realized they were looking 
into the face of a dead friend. For Lucas it was about 
the nearest approach conceivable to active participation 
in his own wake. 

In the history of East African lion shooting, nothing 
is more heroic than the conduct of the Somali shikaris. 
Far and away the finest native race of this continent, 
with a strong strain of Arab blood, light of complexion, 
wavy-haired, often with little of negroid cast of feature, 
tall and slender, scrupulously clean of dress and habits, 
Mohammedans all, at home nomads with their flocks 
and herds, abroad the Jews of the Dark Continent, 
traders wandering in small bands from one tribe to another 
between the twentieth degree of north latitude and the 
fifteenth degree south, the Somalis are faithful and true 
to their salt. No sahib who treats them half decently 
is likely to find cause of complaint of their fidelity, 


they are as ready to die for him as most others are ready 
to desert where peril threatens. 

No one can know the Somali and not be inspired by 
a profound admiration for his religion. For its exem- 
plars, Mohammedanism has done three things that, not 
to make comparison, let us say uplifts it high among 
religious cults; it makes an absolutely temperate people, 
who never know the taste of liquor in any form; instead 
of filling them with a dread of death, it not only makes 
them reckless of it but inspires them to seek it in battle, 
as divine warrant of everlasting abode beside the sweetest 
waters and beneath the best-loved shade of the most 
fecund date palms of Allah's celestial abode; it makes a 
scrupulously devout people who, five times a day, remove 
their sandals, bathe feet and hands, spread rug or wrap, 
no matter what the presence, and, facing Mecca, for ten 
or fifteen minutes engage in prayer, so pray a few yards 
from your camp fire, in a crowded street, upon a thronged 
railway platform, adoring, rapt, oblivious to the world, 
its joys and sorrows, its benefits and threats, first standing, 
then kneeling, then bending and touching the forehead to 
the earth. 

Cultsmen these of a faith no intruding propagandist 
can win them from. Indeed, I am told by a recent high 
official of the National Bank of India's branch at Aden 
that a friend of his, a missionary of the Church of Scot- 
land, a physician missionary at that, a man of the highest 
attainments, and of untiring devotion to his task, for 
nine years treated an average of twelve thousand Mo- 
hammedans a year, healing their wounds, relieving their 
pains, on the sole condition that each should attend his 


services and listen to his pleas. Scrupulously they kept 
faith, come they did and listened, but, after nine years 
the facts forced him to admit frankly he had not won a 
single convert to his creed. 

All this may seem a digression from my subject, but 
nevertheless, to the missionary, the "benighted" blacks 
are the biggest game this Dark Continent affords. 

Only a few days ago, with Djama Aout and Hassan 
Yusef, Somali shikaris, I followed the absolutely fresh 
spoor of a lion to the mouth of a cave into which the spoor 
entered, a cave high enough of roof to admit of entry 
of two or three men, standing, a distance of probably 
eighty feet. On into it both Somalis started, and when 
I protested their folly, they simply replied: "Inshallah 
(God willing), we come back." And into the cave they 
went, one carrying my second rifle, the other nothing 
but his skinning knife, in as far as they could get, tossed 
stones into the dark recesses beyond and in every way 
invited a charge, which, luckily for them, was not made. 

The experience last February on the Theika, eighteen 
miles north of Juja, of Geoffry Charles Buxton typified 
the wonderfully fine fibre of the Somali, and, inci- 
dentally, his own. One morning he left camp at dawn 
with his Somali shikari, he himself carrying a double- 
barrelled .577 cordite rifle, his shikari a Mauser. When 
out from the camp no more than half an hour he sighted 
a big black-mane about a hundred yards away, leisurely 
retiring from his approach. Bush so thick and grass so 
high he could not get a good opening for a shot, Buxton 
raced in pursuit until he came within fifty yards and, 
himself winded, halted for a shot. At the same instant 
Leo, evidently decided he had drawn sufficiently on the 


reserves of his patience, stopped and turned, tail angrily 
lashing, head up, and eyes blazing his royal wrath. 

With a steady aim Buxton sent a great, heavy .577 
ball crashing into his quarry, a shot that entered just 
inside the front of the shoulder, ranged through the lion 
from end to end, and dropped him quivering in the grass. 
Had Buxton left him, the lion would have been dead in 
ten of fifteen minutes, but, notwithstanding he knew he 
had delivered a mortal wound, keen he should not lose 
his trophy, Buxton fired again, and, with little to see of 
the recumbent body, missed. This last shot, however, 
proved quite enough for Leo and nearly too much for 
Buxton; it roused the dying jungle monarch to action 
he rose and charged. 

And at this crisis, while hurriedly throwing a spare 
shell into his empty gun, Buxton observed that its stock 
(broken shortly before in an encounter with an elephant 
and mended with string wrappings) had become so loose 
it was unserviceable, a dilemma to try the nerve of the 
steadiest man. However, lacking time to grab his spare 
gun from the Somali, as the lion rose at him, holding the 
.577 loose alongside him, Buxton fired, and, naturally, 

Then in another instant the dauntless pair were at 
death grips. 

Sure the lion was already carrying a wound he could 
not possibly long survive and that he must win the fight 
if only he could save himself for a few moments, knowing 
his only hope lay in keeping his feet and holding the lion 
off, as they came together Buxton rammed his empty 
rifle barrel down the lion's throat, down until three-fourths 
its length was within the mighty jaws, where the wood- 


work beneath the barrel close up to the trigger guard 
is still deeply scarred by the lion's teeth. 

Then ensued a struggle unparalleled, I believe, in the 
history of lion hunting, between a dying lion fighting to 
the last and a man who knew himself to be as good as 
dead if for an instant wind or nerve failed him. 

Instantly he received the thrust down his throat, the 
lion sank two claws into the inner right forearm that held 
the rifle, four and six inches above the hand, sank them 
into and nearly through the arm to puncture of the other 
side, and this hold he held until both went down. Thus 
dragging at the arm that held the gun, the lion really 
helped hold it to a firmer, deeper thrust that hurt so much 
he shrank back from it, but, with an advancing enemy 
whose grip the nigh paralyzing pain of his wounds did 
not suffice to lessen, he could not escape it. 

And there they swayed and struggled, each literally 
staring death in the face, Buxton, indeed, now sure he 
was gone, for the fetid odor of putrescent meat told 
him the lion's carrion-rending claws that held his arm 
were laden with poison of the deadliest. 

Meantime the beast was tearing the man to ribbons, 
the hind claws slitting his legs, those of the loose fore paw 
digging at the hand that held the rifle. But flinch the 
man did not, dared not, and knowing him well, I 
believe would not had he dared. 

Luckily, just as Buxton was near to going down of 
sheer exhaustion of the struggle and the shock of his 
wounds, help came from his Somali shikari. 

This man from the start of the struggle had been 
trying to shoot the lion with the Mauser, but could not 
discharge it. Buxton of course supposed the gun was in 




some way jammed, but at the finish it proved the gun had 
been set at "safe," and this, through excitement, the 
Somali failed to note. 

At length, and just in the very nick of time, the Somali 
dropped the gun and literally sprang upon the lion's 
back, so hitting its ears and pounding it about the eyes 
with his bare hands that it whirled to reach him and all 
three went to earth together, the Somali beneath the 
lion; beneath both, the Mauser. 

Thus at last released, Buxton painfully rose, gingerly 
pulled the Mauser free and with it blew the lion's brains 
out, all done so quickly he saved his faithful follower from 
fatal wounds. 

A people you are apt to become fond of, are the 
Somalis, when you come to know them well. 

Dr. H. S. Hall, the resident physician of Juja Farm, 
got to Buxton just in time to save his life. With iron 
nerve, Buxton had cauterized all the thirteen wounds with 
pure crystals of permanganate, and thus himself had saved 
himself from poisoning. But some of the crystals bit 
into and opened an artery, and only a tight tourniquet 
saved him from bleeding to death until, five hours later, 
Hall came, tied up the artery, dressed his wounds, and 
brought him here to Juja Farm, where he lay through 
several weeks of slow convalescence. 

Some men are, constitutionally, greedy. In September 
I met Captain Buxton out on another lion hunt, not- 
withstanding his right arm was still heavily bandaged! 

One of the finest lion trophies I have seen out here is 
that of A. B. Duirs, late of the Imperial Light Horse, 
one of the first nine men to gain entry into Mafeking at 
the time of its relief, a ten and one-half-foot black- 


mane skin without any visible mark of the wound that 
killed It. 

One Sunday morning last summer he was out alone 
stalking an impala buck on the Komo, two miles from 
his home on the N'durugo, six miles from Juja. Suddenly, 
when almost near enough for a sure shot, some lucky 
instinct prompted him to glance to his right, to see, not 
thirty yards away, another hunter stalking the same buck 
he was after, a big black-mane; and no more had he 
turned than the lion discovered him and instantly began 
the snarling and tail lashing that preludes a charge. 
Realizing that it was a case of strike first and true, he 
dropped on one knee, took careful aim, and dropped 
His Majesty stone dead, the ball entering a nostril and 
ranging back into the brain ! 

Oddly, the safest lion shooting of all, bar unsportsman- 
like shooting at night from within a thorn zareba over a 
donkey bait, or from a treetop commanding a water-hole, 
is where the sportsman is afoot on a naked plain where 
there is nothing to climb more substantial than a sun- 
beam and no hole to crawl into bigger than a wart-hog's. 
Under such circumstances a pony man runs the lion to 
bay, while his chief approaches at another angle, afoot. 
So run to bay, the lion invariably charges, charges des- 
perately, but nearly always at the pony man, and not 
infrequently catches and downs man and horse where care- 
lessness has brought them nearer than a hundred yards. 

Often one sees their fresh kills, a month ago I 
saw one of the freshest. I was driving in a gharri from 
the farm to Ruero Falls, over a stretch of short-grassed, 
level plain, presently entering a region of long grass. 
And into the long grass I had not driven more than a 


hundred yards when I caught a glimpse of a dead zebra, 
a hundred to one a lion's kill. So over to it I walked, 
to find a carcass still warm, eyes not yet glazed, blood still 
freshly flowing and not a wound on it save two deep claw 
digs on the right shoulder, and the flesh of the neck im- 
mediately behind the ears torn away and the spine 
crushed, just at the base of the skull. The zebra was 
not dead three minutes; doubtless I should have seen the 
attack if I had been looking that way, and probably old 
Leo was then watching me from a near-by thicket or out 
of near concealment in the grass. 

Without disturbing the kill, I drove the remaining 
three miles to the falls, stopped there an hour, and then 
drove back within about a mile of the kill, where I left 
gharri and driver and proceeded to carefully stalk the 
kill, sure the lion would be returned and gorging himself. 

It was aerie work by one's lonesome, going through 
grass shoulder high, with clumps of mimosa on all sides, 
every step a convenient ambush of the sort Leo loves, and 
the picture of the zebra's yawning wound and crushed 
spine persistently intruding before my eyes. However, 
resentful of previous failures, I kept on till I had the car- 
cass in view at about fifteen yards, only to discover Old 
Cunning had not returned. Then for an hour I crawled 
about through the grass and bush in a wide circle of the 
kill, only in the end to score another failure. 

My host McMillan is more lucky, or more probably 
a better hunter, for he seems to get lion when he likes, 
has a dozen or more to his credit. On safari last spring 
on the Guaso Nyiro he spoored a lion into an old aban- 
doned Masai kraal, overgrown with tall grass. Slipping 
softly about the eight-foot high enclosure, trying to locate 


his quarry, suddenly a line of waving grass caught his 
eye, and then just as he stood alert to get a bead, the 
lion rose in a mighty leap at the fence crest, for once a 
bit too slow, for a perfect snapshot caught him aft, ranged 
through him and out of his head, and added one more to 
the big game trophies that, well set up, make the " Jungle" 
of a certain house in Berkeley Square look like a wholesale 
invasion of that end of London by militant African 

Mombasa, standing on a bold, high headland between 
its tiny north harbor, that well served all purposes of 
old Arab and Portuguese days, and its broad roadstead 
to the south called Kilindini, now almost exclusively 
used ; ringed round with tall brown coral cliffs all honey- 
combed and sharp pinnacled; well-nigh hid beneath 
broad-spreading mangoes and the lazily nodding fronds 
of palms which, wherever found, are the very sign manual 
of one-time Arab dominion; defended without by a 
perilously narrow harbor entrance through the jagged 
jaws of a broad belt of surf -beat coral reef; defended 
within by a grand old coral-walled fort, that for centuries 
has added its shrill tenor drum-beat to the hoarse bass 
beat of the surf as a challenge to all strange comers, 
Mombasa enjoys a climate and occupies a position of 
great natural military strength, commanding a trade route 
that leads to such rare prizes that for a thousand years 
it has known less of peace than of war the prizes 
sought, slaves and ivory. 

Times and times unnumbered has Mombasa been 
captured and sacked and changed sovereignty. Chinese 
and Persians, Japanese and Arabs, Turk and Christian 
in turn contended for it to the death, and up from the 



far south and over all in the sixteenth century rolled the 
ruthless tide of the vandal Zimba invasion, only to fall 
later before a wily Portuguese alliance with warlike native 

For three years, from 1696 to 1698, the Portuguese 
garrison of this grand old fortress withstood an unin- 
terrupted Arab siege, only in the end, wasted by famine 
and bubonic plague, to see their flag cut down and them- 
selves fall to the last man by infidel scimitars. 

Then thirty years elapsed before the Portuguese re- 
gained Mombasa, only a few months later to be perma- 
nently expelled by the Imaum of Muscat. 

And Arab ever thereafter Mombasa has remained, for, 
technically, the town is held to-day by the British only 
under concession from the Sultan of Zanzibar. 

From Mombasa the narrow-gauge Uganda Railway 
climbs toward the high central plateaus as rapidly as its 
shockingly slow service permits; at 100 miles, 1,800 feet 
elevation is reached; at 200, 2,300 feet; at 327 (Nairobi), 
5,450 feet; at 484, 8,340 feet, whence descent is rapid 
to 3,650 feet at Port Florence on Victoria Nyanza, 584 
miles from the coast. 

The country on both sides of this railway from its one 
end to its other is literally alive with wild game, although 
little is seen of it till the first one hundred miles is tra- 
versed and the low bush veldt left behind, or after the 
more thickly settled Kikuyu country north of Nairobi is 
entered. But between Voi and Nairobi train passengers 
are seldom out of sight of hundreds, usually in sight of 
thousands, from the tiniest dik-dik antelope, slender, 
delicate, and diminutive as an Italian greyhound, to 
towering giraffe and massive lion. Indeed, only a few 


days ago a large herd of elephant crossed the railway just 
east of Voi, trekking from the bamboo forests of Mount 
Kilima N'jaro to fresh pastures in the north. 

On my first journey up from the coast, no more than 
two hundred yards from the station of Kiu, a great lioness 
crossed the track just in front of us, walking slowly away 
south and no more than thirty yards from the track as 
we passed. Stopped in the station, a Boer emigrant 
took a shot at her from a car roof, but apparently missed. 

The extraordinary present abundance of game both 
north and south of this section of the Uganda Railway is 
due to the fact that all the vast territory extending from 
the Tsavo River to Escarpment, a distance of two hundred 
and thirty miles, and from the south line of the track to 
the German border, embracing about eleven thousand 
square miles, is a carefully preserved game reserve, pre- 
served as jealously as the Yellowstone Park, while im- 
mediately southwest of it in German territory is another 
reserve of the same size. Unfenced, shut in by no im- 
passable streams or mountains, the game is free to wander 
out of and into the reserve at will; but like the shrewd 
stags of a Scotch deer forest, so well does the game seem 
to know the very boundaries that mark for them sanctuary, 
that little do they leave it except in periods of local drought 
or as crowded out by overstocking, so well do they know 
the immunity of sanctuary that, shooting from trains 
being forbidden, timid antelope, wary giraffe, and even 
lion and rhino often idle within a stone's throw of the 

And since from the Tsavo to Kapiti Plains, one 
hundred and fifty miles, there is absolutely no white 
settlement north of the track, and from Kapiti west 


settlers are few and scattering and practically all within a 
narrow belt of forty miles, naturally the heavy out move- 
ment of the game is northward, while yet other thousands 
are pouring down into this central open region of Ukamba 
and Kenya Provinces from north of the Guaso Nyiro River, 
out of the Jubaland and Sugota Game Reserves, that 
together total an area of thirty-eight thousand square 

The region lying between the Athi and the Tana 
Rivers is the centre of this sportsman's paradise, although 
equally good and varied shooting is to be had southwest 
of the railway in the Sotik country. Close upon a half- 
hundred different varieties of big game are here to be 
had, each in their favorite type of country: elephant 
during the dry (and hotter) season, in the dense bamboo 
thickets of high mountain slopes and during the rains in 
the bush veldt and elephant grass country; hippo in the 
streams, or from dusk to dawn feeding along the banks; 
rhinos, any old place, on plain or hills, in bush or open; 
most buck and antelope, preferably in the most open level 
plains; duyker and dik-dik in long grass, out of which 
they pop right under your feet, visible only for the instant 
of each leap, artful little dodgers most men would be 
more apt to get with buckshot than with bullet; reed 
buck, among the scrub of steep, rocky hillslopes ; leopard 
everywhere, but seldom seen and rarely killed unless by 

Elephant are to be found within at the most a week's 
march of almost any camp in the Protectorate, as also 
are most of those now rarer prizes, sable antelope, roan 
antelope, oryx, eland, Kudu. 

By many sportsmen the buffalo is considered a far 


more dangerous antagonist than the lion. Loving the 
shade and concealment of papyrus swamps, dense forest 
and fifteen-foot elephant grass, buffalo are seldom seen 
until you are within a few yards, often a few feet of them. 
Mobs of buffalo seldom charge you deliberately but, 
when startled by scent of you or by a shot, they stampede ; 
often the mob comes thundering straight upon you and 
you are lucky indeed if by rapid close shooting you can 
turn them. 

The real danger with buffalo is with the wounded or 
in an encounter with a lone bull. The latter will often 
charge you from no more provocation than the fact of 
your presence. Recently an officer of the King's African 
Rifles was spooring an elephant near Mount Kenya when 
he sighted a lone buffalo to his right. Keen for his 
elephant, he made a wide detour to the left of the line of 
spoor, to avoid chance of having to defend himself against 
the buffalo. When well past the point where he had seen 
the buffalo he returned to the spoor, but before he had 
followed it thirty yards and before he could turn or spring 
aside, with a cleverly executed rear charge, the buffalo, 
which had been quietly stalking to intercept him, caught 
him on its horns and tossed him upon the flat top of a 
mimosa tree, where, luckily, he lodged comparatively 
unhurt. And there up the tree the doughtv old warrior 
held him till nightfall! 

A wounded buffalo is infinitely more dangerous when 
he runs from you than when he charges, for in nine cases 
out of ten, after a dash that may be of a few hundred 
yards or a mile, he revengefully circles back to an inter- 
ception of his own trail, stands hid in grass or thicket until 


his pursuer comes plodding all unconscious along the 
trail, and then is out and upon him. 

And yet fierce as is the temper of a lone bull, savage 
his cunning, irresistible his great charging bulk, I believe 
him far less dangerous than the lion, he has less speed, 
lacks the lion's poisoned weapons, and is a much bigger 
target; and this opinion is substantiated by the indispu- 
table fact that at least ten men are killed or mauled by 
lion to one by buffalo. 

While easily stalked, the rhino is a most nasty cus- 
tomer, as most men will agree who have hunted him 
especially Benjamin Eastwood, Chief Accountant of the 
Uganda Railway, who was mauled and tramped by one 
to the near loss of his life and the actual loss of one arm 
above the elbow. 

If the rhino gets your scent, almost invariably he 
charges, often, probably, from sheer curiosity, only that 
does n't make him any more easily disposed of. Moreover, 
he runs and turns at a speed incredible of his vast bulk. 
Either shoot straight or stand absolutely motionless, when, 
with his bad sight, there is a possibility he may mistake 
you for a tree and veer past you. 

Indeed, this latter is the safest tactics in the crisis of 
any and all charges, stand fast and still, even the un- 
wounded lion sometimes swerves in his charge and retires 
before a man with nerve to so await his coming. 

Where you sight your rhino first and can get the wind 
of him, it is perfectly easy to stalk within even five or ten 
yards and land a shot where alone you can be sure of a 
kill, four inches back of the eye into the brain pan, 
into the spine between neck and shoulder or midway of the 


body and in line with the centre of the foreleg into the 
heart. And none of these shots are possible except with 
a hard-nose bullet, no soft nose will penetrate his thick 
hide to any vital part. 

Doubtless the most exhausting and nerve-racking 
work the African sportsman encounters is in the pursuit 
of elephant. Not often are they to be found except by 
following their own narrow paths between walls of bamboo 
thicket, jungle tangle, or elephant grass so entirely im- 
penetrable to the hunter that escape from the path is 
impossible. So meet an approaching frightened herd 
and chance of escape is practically zero. Rarely does 
one see elephant until within a few yards of them. Often 
one will find himself squarely in the middle of a feeding 
herd, will hear them breaking limbs or tearing up roots, 
within five or ten feet of him, on all sides, and yet without 
seeing one! Like any youngsters, the totos, the babies, 
are playing about the outer edge of the herd. At the 
first alarm, the mothers rush trumpeting about for their 
young, and it is in such a position the hunter's greatest 
danger of elephant lies. Imprisoned in bush through which 
they easily crash, man and beast are practically in collision 
before there is time for the man to stop him with a vital 
shot in the chest, the only vital spot in a charging 
African elephant, or even time for the elephant, from 
surprise or fear, to swerve. Otherwise safely armored by 
the massive bone structure of the head, the elephant's 
comparatively tiny brain is only to be reached by a side 
shot in the orifice of the ear, while the sure shot for the 
heart is midway of the body and in line with the inner side 
of the foreleg. Indeed, I have known several elephants 
to retire, leisurely if not comfortably, with two or three 


balls in the temple which had failed to reach the 
brain, whether to ultimate recovery or death was never 

The vitality of the elephant is enormous, as in fact is 
that of all African game, down to the tiniest buck. 

But occasionally a white man comes along with a 
vitality as astonishing as that of his quarry. Of this 
Craig Helkett, an officer of the First King's African Rifles, 
is a wonderful proof. 

Out for a few weeks' sport with elephant before going 
on leave, he gave one a mortal chest shot at such close 
range that it was upon him before he could deliver a 
second shot, passed one of its great tusks first transversely 
through his stomach and then through his thigh, picked 
him up with its trunk and tossed him far to one side 
into the bush, and then lurched away to die. And, 
miracle of miracles, though it was nine days before his 
men got him to Entebbe and surgical aid, he is making a 
safe recovery. 

Still for the experienced and prudent elephant hunter, 
the sport is comparatively safe. Mr. Bell, an English- 
man who has been for the last five or six years shooting 
elephant for the ivory, as a business, and who has to his 
credit the probably unparalleled bag to one gun of over 
five hundred head, says he has never yet been charged. 
Only a fortnight ago he came into Entebbe from a four 
months' safari in the Congo country with the tusks of 
one hundred and eighty big fellows. Deducting the 
period of the journey in and out, this remarkable kill 
must have been made within no more than six weeks' 
actual shooting! And one day alone he bagged eighteen! 
No bad business with ivory at two dollars and a half a 


pound and an average tusk weight of probably one hun- 
dred pounds per pair! 

Asked by a friend of mine how he had contrived to so 
long come off unscathed, Bell replied, "I never shoot 
until I get my big tusker right; if I find myself amid a 
big herd, I manage to slip out and bide my time; patience 
will always get you a big tusker right, and then you have 
it your own way," and, indeed, "patience" is the watch- 
word of every notably successful big game hunter: wait- 
ing to "get them right." 

Hippo are rarely to be had in daylight hereabouts, 
although they are plenty in the larger streams and posi- 
tively swarm in the lakes of less than 5,000 feet altitude. 
They are easiest to be had by cruising at dawn in boat 
or canoe a few yards out from landings for their favorite 
grazing grounds, where a fair breast or shoulder heart 
shot may be had as they enter the water, or by lying in 
wait on land on moonlight nights for them to come ashore. 
On the water at dawn or of a night they often rise near 
you, and in such position the only sure shot is through a 
yawning nostril into the brain. They are trophies well 
worth while, their great teeth, finer ivory than that of the 
elephant, making beautiful mirror or picture frames. 
On water they are beasts to have especial care of, for they 
sometimes charge you and sink your canoe with a crunch 
of the jaws or rise under the canoe and spill you into 
crocodile-infested waters. 

At the African home of my host, William Northrup 
McMillan, at Juja Farm, twenty-two miles from Nairobi, 
and in the heart of the great Athi Plains, all the East 
African game abounds in thousands, except rhino and 
elephant, sable and roan antelope and oryx and the 


latter are to be had within two to five days' journey 
hundreds nearly always in sight from the veranda of the 
house. I have lighted a cigarette in my room at daylight 
and gone out and killed a big Wildebeeste bull before 
the cigarette was finished. In fact, the twenty thousand 
acres of the "farm" so swarm with game after the rains 
that before the dry season is half over the grass is eaten 
short as on an overcrowded cattle range, all from the 
overflow of the great game reserves north and south of 
us. But notwithstanding their great numbers, it takes 
marksmanship to get game on the Athi Plains, for they 
are bare of cover and it is unusual to get a shot at any- 
thing but lion or hippo short of three hundred to six 
hundred yards. 

The heavy-bore rifles are now practically obsolete 
among African sportsmen, the four, eight, and twelve 
bores and even the .577, whose chief merit lay in the fact 
that they sometimes kicked you out of the way of a 
charging beast. Few now use anything heavier than the 
English double-barrelled .450 cordite, and I and many 
others find the .405 Winchester the most satisfactory of 
all for all-round African work, although the 30-30 is 
heavy enough for anything except a few of the bigger 
fellows, while not a few, Bell and, I understand, Selous 
included, prefer to trust in the higher velocity and flat 
trajectory of the pencil-like .256 Mannlicher for even 
elephant. While I have not yet tried the Mannlicher, 
I believe it is no more than probable its devotees are right, 
for such is the extraordinary vitality of all African game 
that the more lead you throw into them the faster and 
farther they run, unless you get brain, heart, or spine. 
I have myself in a two-mile pursuit of a two hundred and 


seventy-five pound wounded hartebeeste bull put nine 
big .35 Mauser bullets through him before finally bringing 
him down, and a few days ago Captain Dugdale and First 
Officer Hampden of the S. S. Clement Hill, on Victoria 
Nyanza, put twenty-two . 303*5 into a hippo before getting 

Even the smaller antelope, slender and delicate though 
they appear, must be hit in brain, ' heart, or spine, no 
matter what the calibre of your gun, or you lose them. 

Not a few American sportsmen besides McMillan 
have had their fling at African big game, notably Astor, 
Chanler, John Bradley, and Max Fleischman, and more 
are sure to come. 

The journey may be made most comfortably. By 
arranging close sailing connections, the German Lloyd 
steamers from New York to Naples and the well-served 
German East African line thence south fetch you to 
Mombasa in thirty days, and two days later you can be 
in Nairobi, all at a cost well within $500, or at Marseilles 
one may connect with the steamers of the Compagnie 
Messageries which sail once a month via Suez for all 
East African ports to Mombasa, and for all island ports 
thence south to Madagascar and Reunion. 

Nairobi, the seat of government of this Protectorate, 
now has a total white population of eight hundred and 
fifty, including the military and police, while its highly 
variegated assortment of colors, ranging from pale 
saffron to ebony, numbers eleven thousand. Its streets, 
especially about the Indian bazaar, are thronged with 
Orientals and native savages, the former as weirdly pic- 
turesque in the variety and styles of their costumes as are 
the latter in the scantiness or entire lack of any costume 


at all. Grave Sikh constables, bearded and turbaned; 
Parsee merchants and clerks in long black coats and flat- 
topped skull caps ; Hindu mechanics, .turbaned and often 
carrying water pipes half as big as a foot bath; coast 
Swahilis in long, nightgown-like kanzus of thinnest 
muslin and embroidered white skull caps; flowing- 
robed Arabs with sashes stuck full of enough life-taking 
steel to arm a half-dozen men of any other race; tall, 
slender, graceful Somalis in khaki jackets, turbans, 
and flowing waist cloths; Goanese merchants and clerks 
in white drill; Indian women and children wearing more 
brilliant colors than even a kaleidoscope could boast, 
and Kikuyu women with nothing on but a flapping, 
slipping skin or length of begrimed "American!" (cotton 
cloth) which sometimes covers the back and sometimes 
does not, sometimes shrouds one end of the body and 
sometimes the other, a cover so scanty as to leave little 
to the imagination except the privilege of conjecture why 
they bother to wear it at all; tall, lithe Masai warriors, 
their hair in flapping red ringlets, had of a mixture of red 
clay and castor oil, a skin loosely looped about both 
shoulders or over one, short swords stuck in their belts 
and in their hands spears with narrow blades three feet 
long; gallant Kikuyu dandies with the lobes of their ears 
split and stretched to hold anything from a tomato can 
to a porcelain marmalade jar, or, if a bit epris by civili- 
zation, swaggering under a battered helmet or strutting 
about in nothing but a faded and fragmentary but tightly 
buttoned frock coat; red-blanketed Wakamba, their 
upper teeth filed to points sharp as pins, these once 
eaters of their enemies and of their own dead, as are still 
several tribes within ten days' march of here; and here 


and there the khaki-clad figure of a European, helmeted 
and putteed, looking isolated in this jostling savage 
throng as a vagrant cork upon the sea. 

Nor are the vehicles and the beasts that draw them 
less varied than the people. An Irish jaunting car 
drawn by a sixteen-hand Missouri mule is followed by a 
two- wheeled pleasure cart with a body much the shape 
but twice the size of a theatre wagon, painted in daubs 
of every gaudy color the builder could command, drawn 
by a pair of hump-necked bullocks that jog along at a 
clumsy but tolerable pace, the European lady and chil- 
dren inside bouncing helplessly about, wondering, I im- 
agine, whether heads or elbows are to get the next bump. 

Then along is apt to come dear old John Boyes, King 
of the Kikuyu, in an American buggy drawn by two 
Abyssinian mules so diminutive I am puzzled why so 
kindly a soul as he does not stow the mules under the 
buggy seat and pull the trap himself. 

Next, one is likely to see approach at slow, lurching 
pace a pair of camels, hitched tandem to the high two- 
wheeled cart of some Somali trader, the camels' faces 
wearing the ghastly expression of equal parts of double 
distilled agony and concentrated extract of despair that 
always makes the mere sight of a camel's face run one's 
temperature down to congealment of the very fountains 
of content and joy. Follows a great Transvaal trek 
wagon, rattling and groaning along, pulled by anywhere 
from five to twenty yoke of cattle, a Hindu's cart pulled 
by two dome-necked bullocks, the driver roosting on 
his heels upon the tongue of the cart, tight and safe as a 
fly on a wall, or a rickshaw drawn by a donkey and crowds 
of rickshaws propelled by "boys." 


Despite its raw appearance, Nairobi possesses an 
excellent hotel, which at certain seasons is crowded with 
safari parties, for here alone are the safari parties organ- 
ized. Twenfy such parties went out in October and No- 
vember, ten are now at the Norfolk Hotel, and forty or 
fifty more are expected during December and January. 
The usual party consists of two men, occasionally of only 
one, sometimes of three or four. Not a few ladies come 
out, and some shoot. 

Probably half the sportsmen coming out here are of 
the British or Continental nobility. The more brilliant 
planets of the titular firmament, princes, dukes and earls, 
abound, while its lesser lights, lords, counts, and barons, 
are here thick enough to form a " milky way" were it not 
for the fact that theirs is, by preference, a whiskey-and- 
soda way. Here are the names of a few of those either 
now here or who have been here in the last few months . 
Duchesse de Aosta, Prince de Furstenberg, Prince de 
Chimay, Duke de Penaranola, Marquis de la Scala, 
Earl of Gifford, Duke de Alba (Aide-de-Camp to the 
King of Spain), Duke de Medinacoli, Lord and Lady 
Waleran, Lord Bury, Lord Wodehouse, Sir E. and Lady 
Plowden, Sir Charles Kirkpatrick, Count Palffy, Count 
Zichy, Baron Kervyn de Leltenhone, Baron von Uklan- 
ski, Baron and Baroness de Bethune, General and Mrs. 
Allenby, Colonel Yardley, Colonel Colville, Professor 
Agassiz, and Major Dalgety. 

The sportsman need bring here nothing but his guns 
and ammunition. Newland, Tarlton and Co., Limited, 
the Boma Trading Co. and Will Judd make a specialty 
of furnishing safari parties and do it well. A safari for 
one man will consist of a white safari leader, usually a 


good shot and familiar with the country and the run and 
habits of its game, a headman, gun bearer, cook, mess 
boy and tent boy (all Somalis), and twenty to twenty-five 
shenzi (savage) porters, each carrying on his head a 
sixty-pound load tents, beds, provisions, etc., all 
furnished, including food, at three hundred and fifty to 
five hundred dollars a month. Horses, mules, liquors, 
etc., are, of course, extra. Horses here are scarce and 
dear, thanks to the tsetse fly, a Somali pony worth no 
more than thirty dollars in Texas bringing readily two 
hundred dollars, while Abyssinian mules, tough, wiry, 
and good roadsters but little bigger than a donkey, sell 
at one hundred and fifty dollars. The "big" game 
license, which allows you to kill from one to ten head of 
about everything afoot or a-wing, costs two hundred and 
fifty dollars. 

Every one is asking how long the big game here can 
last. I should say certainly no more than four or five 
years in anything like its present abundance and easy 
access. About 1,200,000 acres have already been taken 
up by white settlers, stock raisers, and farmers, who 
find it difficult and in some places impossible to main- 
tain fences. Buffalo and zebra especially go through 
barb wire as if it were no more than thread. As a result 
the settlers have been so actively urging changes in the 
game laws permitting them to shoot at will trespassing 
game that a few evenings ago, at the St. Andrews dinner 
of the Nairobi Caledonian Society, the Governor, Colonel 
Sir James Hayes Sadler, stated that while he agreed that 
sport was in a way a mainstay in the making of British 
manhood, public game preservation must not be per- 
mitted to impede the development of the country by 


white settlers, and further said that changes in the game 
laws in this particular were under consideration. Give 
the settler a free hand, and a year or two will see easy 
shooting ended within seventy-five miles of the railway, 
except on big estates like Juja and Kamiti, whose owners 
are likely to preserve them indefinitely as shooting boxes. 

Any American sportsman keen for a chance at African 
big game shooting while still at its best should not long 
delay coming, but I don't believe any one now living will 
live to see African big game actually exterminated. 

For at least the course of this generation there will 
remain plenty of places where the active enthusiast can 
get his elephant, lion, rhino, hippo, buffalo, and most of 
the antelope family except a few of the rarer species. 
Indeed, not even two or three generations will see the 
swamps and jungles of the Congo, the Zambesi, the Tana, 
the Juba, the Lake and the Nile basins, etc., or the forest 
recesses and bamboo thickets of Central Africa's taller 
uplifts, generally occupied, save as now by natives, or in 
any considerable measure tamed; and until so occupied 
and tamed they must remain a safe breeding region and 
retreat for all sorts of the bigger game which is most 

Portuguese East Africa and the Congo are full of fine 
shooting, though not so varied as here. Moreover, the 
climate of both sections is far more dangerous than that 
of British East, and neither offers any facilities for 
safari provision. 

German East Africa, Matabeleland, Northern Rho- 
desia, Somaliland, and Abyssinia offer capital sport, 
but all under either less convenient or less safe conditions 
than here. 


And, even yet, far south in Cape Colony, the Trans- 
vaal, Basutoland, and the Orange Colony, it is a poor 
sportsman who cannot take a few days off and slip away 
to a quiet bit of bush or nook of plain where he can bowl 
over a few buck or even an elephant. 




Aboriginal instincts for location and 

direction, 107, 112 
Abullahi, 182 
Abyssinia, 283 

Abyssinia, W. N. McMillan's expe- 
ditions through, 181 
Abyssinian buffalo, 31 
Abyssinian mules, 280, 282 
Aden, branch of National Bank of 

India at, 261 
Admiral, of German East African 

Line, 185, 201 (note), 203 
Africa, country of contradictions, 58 
African native, characteristics of, 38, 

136, 137, 183, 184, 217-220, 227-229 
Agassiz, Prof., 281 
Agilo, Kavirondo chief, 84-88 
Agricultural and Industrial Exhibition 

of Uganda, Kampala, 1908, 209, 

212-216, 231 
Aikley, Carl, 161 
Akuna, Masai guide, 67, 68, 72, 75, 

96, IO2 

Alba, Duke de, 281 

Albert Edward, Lake, 204, 205 

Albert Nyanza, Lake, 235 

Allenby, Gen. and Mrs., 281 

Allsop, Mr., 199 

Araala River, 134, 203 

Ambagathi River, 4 

American merry-go-round at Uganda 

Exhibition, 212 
American sportsmen, 278, 283 
"Americani" (unbleached cotton 

cloth), 64, 65, 86, 279 
Anglo-German Boundary Survey 

Commission, 6, 62, 91, in, 199 
Ankole, exhibits from, 214, 216 
Ankole, King of, 214, 216 
Ankori Province, Uganda, 82 
Antelope family, 36, 51-53, no, 270, 

271, 278, 283 
Aosta, Duchesse de, 281 
Apes, 32, 47, 190 

Arab Barta, 128, 139, 147, 149, 156, 

Arab dominion in Africa, 114, 137, 

268, 269 
Arab extraction, Somali shikaris of, 


Arab Miner, 167 
Arab Sendow, 139 
Arab Tumo, 127, 128, 139-141, 147, 

149, 168-173 
Arabian stallions for Mr. Roosevelt's 

use, 200 

Arabs, weapons carried by, 279 
Archery contest among Masai, 72-74 
Arrow, poisoned, effect of, 71 
Arrow, poisoned, found in buffalo 

bull, 28, 29 

Astor, , American sportsman, 278 

Atanansi, third in Marathon race, 216 
Athi Plains, 3, 186, 189, 190, 196, 276, 


Athi River, 188, 189, 201, 259, 271 
Automobile in Uganda, 210 
Awala Nuer, of safari staff, 2, 18, 48- 

50, 71, 97, 153, 156, 159, 182 


Baboons, 50 

" Backsheesh," native, 64, 86, 87 

Baganda natives, 81, 134, 211, 215, 

237, 246 

Baker, Dr., 80, 83, 84, 88, 221 
Baker, Hyde, 131 
Baleka, cannibal, 82 
Bananas, 212, 236, 247 
Baringo, Lake, 166, 204 
Bark cloth, 215 
Basutoland, 284 

Beads for native trade, 64, 65, 86 
Bed, Wanderobo, 165, 166 
Bele (Wanderobo), 165, 166 
Bell, Mr., elephant hunter, 275-277 
Bell, Sir H. Hesketh, K. C. M. G., 

Governor of Uganda, 204, 210, 212- 




Bergash Bin'Said, Sultan of Zanzibar, 

Berti, Mrne., of the Equatorial Hotel, 

Entebbe, 217 

Bethune, Baron and Baroness de, 281 
Big Game License, 188, 282 
"Big rains," 5, 34, 47, 145, 176, 203 
" Big Water Holes," 6 
Birds, carrion-feeders, 104, 105 
Bison, American, 44 
Black-mane lion, 188, 262, 265, 266 
Black-water fever, 146, 179 
Blood-poisoning caused by teeth and 

claws of lion, 202, 257, 264, 265 
Blue Nile, 181 

Boer history, names famous in, 201 
Boer War, 196 
Bogongo, landing-place for Mabira 

forest, 235, 249 
Boies, John, ivory hunter, 114 
Boma Trading Co., 281 
Bomaed camp, 40 
Bongo, 130, 188, 204 

Botha, , farmer, 201 

Bow, Masai, 73, 74 
Bowmen, Masai, 67 
Boyes, John, King of the Kikuyu, 280 
Boyle, A. G., C. M. G., Sub-Com- 
missioner, 234, 239, 253 
Bradley, John, 278 
Brazilian rubber product, 242 
Britannia, under Roman rule, 219 
British authority over natives, 4, 84, 

181, 243 
British East Africa, best lion pony in, 


British East Africa, buck in, 32 
British East Africa, climate of, 283 
British East Africa, eland in, 192 
British East Africa, enforced native 

labor forbidden in, 227 
British East Africa, game restrictions 

in, 192 
British East Africa, land productivity 

and prices in, 248, 249 
British East Africa, lion in, 195 
British East Africa, local administra- 
tions in, 249 
British East Africa, population and 

cultivation of, 223 
British East Africa, Mr. Roosevelt's 

safari in, 203 
British East Africa, sleeping sickness 

in, 80, 221 
British East Africa, species not found 

in, 205 

British in Mombasa, 269 

British Museum bongo trophy, 130 

Briton and Yankee manners toward 
strangers, 78, 79 

Broken Hills, Northern Rhodesia, 233 

Brooke, Bryan, 176 

Brown, Ernest, 247 

Bruce, Colonel Sir David, 220-222 

Bubonic plague among natives, 220 

Buck as fence- jumpers, 194 

Buck-shooting, 190, 271 

Bucks furnish cloaks and bow strings 
to natives, 67 

Bucks, wounded, prey of carrion- 
feeding birds, 104 

Buffalo, 14, 24-31, 60, 141, 147, 171, 
177, 178, 190, 192, 238, 255, 271- 
273, 282, 283 

Buffalo tail soup, 33 

Bulpett, Charles, 182 

Bunbury, , of Donya Sabuk, 188 

Burton, 217 

Bury, Lord, 281 

Bush buck, 130, 189 

Bush lion, 46 

Butiaba, 205 

Butterenjonie, Masai chief, 134 

Buvuma Island, 235 

Buxton, Captain, 210 

Buxton, Geoffry Charles, 262-265 

Cabanoa Forest, 145, 166 

Cabanoa Hills, 141, 142, 145, 147, 149, 


Cairo, 204, 205, 233, 234 
"Cairo, Streets of," at Chicago 

World's Fair, 212 
Camels, 280 

Camp protected against beasts, 17, 40 
Candelabrum cactus, 40, 236 
Cannibals, 279 

Canoe, Baganda war, 235, 249 
Cape buffalo, see Buffalo. 
Cape Colony, 284 
Cape Mounted Police, 115 
"Cape to Cairo" railway, 233, 234 
Capitalists in Equatorial Africa, 227 
Caravan road from Mombasa to 

Uganda, 199 

Carbonate of soda deposit, 5 
Cardross, Lord, 4 
Cassava, 212, 247 

Castilloa Elastica, rubber tree, 247 
Cave Dwellers of Mt. Elgon, 204 



Caves of a Hundred Lion on the Athi, 

Central American rubber product, 242, 

Ceylon, rubber industry in, 239, 242, 


Chandler reed buck, in 

Changwe District of Uganda Protect- 
orate, 230 

Chanler, , American sportsman, 


Chant of natives at toil, 211, 215, 236 

Charge of beast, how best to meet, 273 

Cherries, wild, 107 

Chevalier, Dr., 42 

Chicago World's Fair, "Streets of 
Cairo" at, 212 

Children of Baganda natives, 237 

Chimay, Prince de, 281 

Chinese at Mombasa, 268 

Chipalungo Forest, 204 

Christmas on the Mau Escarpment, 34 

Chumvi, Mt., 200, 202 

Church Missionary Society, 209, 212 

Churchill, Winston, 224 

Churchyards, 224 

Citronella, 247 

City of the future at head of Nile, 234 

Clement Hill, of Victoria Nyanza 
service, 209, 210, 278 

Climate at head of Nile, 234 

Climate of British East Africa, Portu- 
guese East Africa, and the Congo, 

"Closed" territory, 115, 116 

Cobra, 42, 171, 179, 238 

Cocoa, 247 

Coffee culture, 215, 247 

Coke's hartebeeste, 109 

Collyer, Deputy Commissioner, 256 

Colobus monkeys, 36, 37 

Colonial Office, 229, 249 

Colville, Col., 281 

Colville, Lady, and son, safari of, 168, 

Colvin, R. A., 31 

Congo country, ivory from, 275 

Congo district, climate of, 283 

Congo jungles, sleeping sickness 
originated in, 80-82 

Congo River, 204, 283 

Coral at Mombasa harbor, 268 

Corporal punishment of natives, 136- 
139, 167, 182-184, 228 

Cotton industry, 212, 215, 216 

Crane, lavender crested, 250 

"Crepe" rubber, 244 
Crickets, African, 108 
Crocodile, 60, 189, 192, 234, 238, 239, 

251, 252 

Crops of Uganda, 247, 248 
Croton-oil plant, 247 
Crystal Palace Exposition, London, 

1851, 209 

Cunningham, R. I., 161 
Cunninghame, R. J., 14, 179, 182- 

187, 191, 203-205 
Curing of elephant feet for trophies, 

Curios, natives refuse to part with, 94 


Dalgety, Major, 281 

Dar-es-Salaam, 218 

Date palms, 212 

Daudi Chwa, King of Uganda, 212, 

Dawa (medicine), natives demand, 


Derria, of safari staff, 182 
Destro, John, 188 
Dik-dik, 32, 189, 194, 269, 271 
Dingonek, Maggori River monster, 

Diseases of Equatorial Africa (except 

sleeping sickness, -which see), 219, 

220, 223 
Diseases on which white settlers have 

to count, 224 
Divers, black, 251 
Djama Aout, 181, 182, 191, 262 
Dongas in which lion hide, 199, 201 
DonyaSabuk Farm, 188, 189, 191, 259 
Draft animals, 192 
Dress of Kavirondo natives, 84-86, 

211, 236 

Dress of Kikuyu natives, 279 
Dress of Masai warriors, 279 
Dress of Toroni's Masai, 93 
Dress of Uganda natives, 211, 236 
Duck Creek camp, 40 
Dugdale, Captain, 278 
Dugmore, Mr. Radclyffe, 
Duirs, Captain A. B., 189, 191, 265, 

Duyker, 189, 238, 271 


East African Standard, The, quoted, 
193. 194 



East Indian bureaucratic red tape, 249 

Eastwood, Benjamin, 273 

Eland, 32, 36, 37, 41, 42, 69-72, 189- 

192, 271 

Eldama Ravine, 166 
Eldama Ravine Boma, 131 
Elephant, 65, 66, 75-77, 89, 95-103, 

105, 113, 114, 116, 119-123, 142, 

145, 147-163, 165-171, I73-I7S. 

177, 178, 181, 187, 203, 205, 255, 

270, 271, 274-276 
Elephant grass, 76, 77, 142, 150, 160, 

169-171, 173, 174, 187, 213, 234, 

235, 237, 238, 246-248, 274, 283 
Elephant hunters, native, 119-123, 136 
Elephant hunters, white, 89, 98, 102, 

113-115, 158, 162, 275, 276 
Elephantiasis, 219 

Elgon, Mt., Cave Dwellers of, 204 
Elk, fast gait of, 70 
Elmy, Adam, 182 
Emin Pasha, rescue of, 232 
Enforced native labor forbidden, 227 
Engabai (Masai name for Mara), 113, 

"5> IX 9 

Engabai plains, 127 
English Cathedral at Kampala, 212, 

Entebbe, 180, 205, 217, 218, 221, 232, 


Entebbe, botanical gardens of, 247 
Entebbe District, 231 
Equatorial Africa, capitalists in, 227 
Equatorial Africa, division of, among 

the powers, 217 
Equatorial Africa, empire builders in, 


Equatorial Africa, geographical 
bounds of, 217, 218 

Equatorial Africa, paradise for pio- 
neers, 225 

Equatorial Africa, population of, 219, 
220, 223 

Equatorial Africa, seasons in, 108 

Equatorial Africa, socially and indus- 
trially, 223, 224 

Equatorial Hotel, Entebbe, 217 

Exeter Hall, humanitarians of, 228, 

Extermination of African big game, 

Farmers in B. E. A., 192, 194, 201, 

Farmers, native, 227 

Farming, modern scientific, opportun- 
ity for, 223, 247 

Fashoda, French defeat at, 210 

Feast, elephant, 161-163 

Fecus trees, 237 

Fencing in B. E. A., 194, 282 

Fevers, 146, 179 

Field Columbian Museum, represent- 
ative of, 161 

Fire sticks, native, 105 

Fires, grass, 145, 163, 164, 168 

Fish at Ripon Falls, 234 

Fleischman, Max, 278 

Foaker, Collector, 131 

Food, native manner of consuming, 
106, no, 138, 161-163, 219 

Forest camp, 129, 130 

Forest guinea fowl, 129 

Forty-niners, California, 225 

Freight rates, 249 

French defeat at Fashoda, 210 

Frontal head shot takes effect on 
rhino, 23 

Funtumnia Elastica, prime rubber 
tree, 237, 244, 246, 247 

Furstenberg, Prince de, 281 

Game, abundance of, 178, 189, 190, 

192, 269-271, 276, 277, 282 
Game, herd of, numbering thousands, 

Game-killing by natives forbidden, 

62, 74 
Game laws, 113, 191, 192, 257, 282, 

Game near Uganda Railway, 206- 

208, 269, 270 
Game preservation, 282 
Game reserves, 270, 271, 277 
Game shooting in Africa, 254 
Game unafraid of man, 44, 270 
Garnets, 43 

Gatineau River rapids, 254 
George, Mr., 188 
Gerenuk, 32 
Germ diseases, blacks susceptible to, 

German border, country along, 181, 

187, 270 
German East Africa, conditions for 

sport in, 283 
German East Africa, labor situation 

in, 229 



German East Africa, population and 

cultivation of, 223 
German East Africa, sisal industry in, 


German East African Line, 185, 278 
German seizure of ivory hunter's 

camp, 113 

German territory, ivory trade in, 119 
German territory, Maggori River 

valley in, 105 
German territory, sleeping sickness 

in, 221 

Germans, natives fear, 62, 229 
Gharri, Boer, belonging to Juja Farm, 


Ghee (clarified butter), 215 
Gifford, Earl of, 281 
Gilgil, 204 
Giraffe, 14-16, 51, 125, 126, 189, 269, 


Giraffe tail meat, 33 
Glossina pal pal is, species of tsetse fly, 

Goldfinch, , companion of Mr. 

Lucas, of Donya Sabouk, 259 
Gondokoro, 180, 205 
Gould, Jay, Masai chief resembled, 72 
Government, ivory hunters assist 

cause of, 114, 115 
Gower, Leverson, 46 
Grahamstown, 196 
Granadilla vines, 200 
Grand Hotel, Mombasa, 206 
Grant, 231 

Granti, 44, 189, 191, 194 
Grasshoppers, 108 

Gratitude, natives not capable of, 137 
Grazing lands of Northwest Texas 

and New Mexico, 248 
"Great White Way" at St. Louis Ex- 
hibition, 212 
Greater Kudu, 166, 204 
Greek ivory traders, 119 
Grizzly bear hunting, 177, 255 
Guaso Narok River, 166, 204 
Guaso Nyiro River, 5, 6, 10, 1214, 

16, 17, 24, 204, 256, 267, 271 
Guns, 22, 23, 27, 54, 55, 90, 99, 

IS3-IS5. IS 8 . 262-265, 277 
Gwasi range, 83 


Habia, Masai tracker, 70, 71, 75, 89, 

96, 103, 105-107, 112 
Hadji Ali, 182 

Halaled meat, 66, 186 
Hall, Dr. H. S., 265 
Hall, Ft., 167, 204 

Hammond, , of Kamiti Farm, 190 

Hampden, Lieut., 210, 278 

Hartebeeste, 189, 278 

Hassan Yusef, 182, 191, 196, 262 

Hazard and sport, 254 

Heatley, Hugh H., 190 

Helkett, Craig, 275 

Hill, Clifford and Harold, 187, 195- 

202, 206 
Hinde, Provincial Commissioner S. L., 


Hindu merchants in Nairobi, 279 
Hippo, 60, 189, 238, 251-253, 271, 

276-278, 283 
Hobley, Provincial Commissioner, 131, 

134, 224 
Hoima, 205 
Homa, Mt., 83 
Honey birds, 105, 107 
Honey, wild, 106 
Horns of old and young buffalo bulls, 


Horse sicknesses, fatal, 192 
Horses, 192, 282 
Hotel at Nairobi, 281 
Huebner, Mr., 207 
Hughes, John, chemist, 243, 245 
Human sacrifices, 219 
Humphery, District Commissioner R. 

W., 197, 258 
Hunger of natives, 163 
Hunter in Africa, dangers that 

threaten, 179 
Hunting, ethics of, 104 
Hut tax, annual, 86, 117 
Huts, native, 236 
Hyena, 56, 91, in, 167, 189, 192 


Ibis, Nile, 250 

Impala, 32, 46, 48, 68, 125, 130, 189, 

Imperial Boundary Survey, 35, 40, 42, 


Imperial British Company, 232 
Imperial Light Horse (Boer War), 

196, 265 

Imprisonment of natives, 228 
Indentured foreign labor, 227 
India, "mono-rail" railway systems 

in, 211 
Indian Bazaar, Kampala, 212 



Indian Bazaar, Nairobi, 278, 279 
Indians of North and South America, 

218, 220 
Indigo, 247 

Insect life about Victoria Nyanza, 250 
Ironsmiths, native, 215 
Isaac, Deputy Commissioner, 130, 201 
Isogu River, 176 
Isuria Escarpment, 52, 67-69, 108, 

127, 204 
Isuria range, 64 
Ivory from hippo teeth, 276 
Ivory hunters, see Elephant hunters 
Ivory trade, 113, 119, 158, 268, 275, 



Jackals, 56 

Jackson, Lieutenant-Governor, 116, 

224, 239 
Jalou Nilotic Kavirondo, villages of, 


Japanese at Mombasa, 268 
" Jews of the Dark Continent," 260 
Jinja, 204, 221, 232-235, 237 
Johnston, Sir Harry, 180, 231 
Jones, Deputy Commissioner L. A. 

F., 176 
Jordan, John Alfred, 114-127, 129- 

136, 139, 142-144, 146, i47, 149. 

152-160, 163-166, 175 

Joubert, , Boer farmer, 201 

Joubert, General, 201 

Journey to African hunting grounds, 


Juba River, 283 

Jubaland Game Reserve, 204, 271 
Judd, William, i, 22, 26, 27, 37, 38, 

44, 45, S 2 , S3, 60, 64, 65, 179, 180, 

Juja Farm, 159, 176, 186-189, I 9 1 ' 

196, 200, 202, 203, 258, 259, 262, 

265, 266, 276, 277, 283 

Kagwa, Sir Apolo, K. C. M. G., 214 

Kakunguru, the, at Uganda Exhibi- 
tion, 214 

Kamiti Farm, 190, 283 

Kamiti River, 190 

Kampala, 209-212, 220, 231 

Kapere, Uganda native, winner of 
Marathon race, 216 

Kapiti Plains, 177, 186, 109-201, 270 

Kapiti Station, 200 

Karungu, 79, 83, 119 
Katelembo Farm, 195, 196 
Kavirondo country, sleeping sickness 

in, 221 

Kavirondo country, trophies from, 187 
Kavirondo tribe, 66, 78, 84-87, 89, 

134, 211, 222; see Jalou Nilotic 


Kavirondo villages, location of, 78, 80 
Kenia, Government launch, 205 
Kenya, Mt., 167, 180, 187, 203, 272 
Kenya Province, 271 
Kericho, 114, 139, 166, 168, 175, 176 
Khartoum, 205, 231, 233, 235 
Khedive of Egypt, 232 
Kibaibai Hills and Springs, 40, 46 
Kibokos (whips) of hide, 23, 136, 182, 


Kibololet, 51 
Kidong valley, 64 
Kikuyu country, 269 
Kikuyu hills, 3 

Kikuyu natives, 3, 5, 10, 114, 279 
Kikuyu porter killed by lion, 256, 257 
Kilima N'jaro, Mt., 200, 231, 270 
Kilima Theki Farm, Sir Alfred 

Pease's, 186 
Kilimanjaro giraffe, 14 
Kilindini Harbor, 201 (note), 206, 


Kimberley blue clay diamond forma- 
tion, 43 
Kindness, natives misunderstand, 136, 


King of Beasts, lion the, 255 
Kingfisher, 250 
King's African Rifles, 212, 213, 272, 


Kioga District, native chief of, 245 
Kioga, Lake, 235 
Kipp, Miss, 189 
Kirkpatrick, Sir Charles, 281 
Kisii country, 65, 96, 187 
Kisii Government boma, 79, 84, 142, 


Kisii herd, range of, 169 
Kisii Highlands, 65, 89, 103, 166, 175, 


Kisii natives, 84, 163 
Kisumu, 205, 220, 221, 232, 236 
Kisumu, Province of, 83, 84, 221, 222 
Kitanga, 199, 200, 201, 206 
Kiu, station on Uganda Railway, 207, 


Kivu, Lake, 82, 214 
Kiwala, Mabira forest, 246 



Komo River, 266 

Komo Rock, 189 

Kongoni, 123, 125 

Koorhaan, 33 

Korkosch, Mongorrori chief, 134 

Koydelot, chief of the Masai, 63, 64, 

67, 119 
Kudu, 271; see lesser Kudu and 

greater Kudu 

Kuja River, 75, 77, 83, 88, 170, 221 
Kumbari, 25, 48 

Laane, Father, 224 

Labor in Equatorial Africa, 227-229, 

Labusoni (Wanderobo chief), 119- 
122. 136, 144, 165 

Lacemakers, native, 215 

Ladies who shoot big game, 281 

Laikipia country, 168 

Land laws, 249 

Land owners in B. E. A., 192 

Land productivity and prices, 248, 249 

Land to be acquired by white settlers, 

Lanjaro Spring, 201 

Laso, women's garment, 236 

Latex (milk), rubber, 239-244 

Laws, 249 

Legerdemain tricks puzzling to na- 
tives, 63 

Leltenhone, Baron Kervyn de, 281 

Lenani's Southern Masai, 4, 34 

Lenderut River, 47 

Lenderut River, cascades of, 47, 48 

Lengijabi Mountain, 39 

Leopard, 69, 90, 91, 177, 190, 192, 

257. 2 7i 

Lesser Kudu, 32, 43, 204 

License for natives, demand for, 228 

Lichtenstein hartebeeste, 90, 91, 103, 

Limerick Plains, 168, 203 

Lion, 19, 40, 41, 46, 55, 56, 60, 68, 
69, 123, 124, 141, 171, 177, 178, 
181, 182, 186-190, 192-199, 201-203, 
206-208, 255-260, 262-270, 272, 273, 
277, 283 

Lion, black-mane, 188, 262, 265, 266 

Lion, maneless (bush), 46 

" Lion," Swahili word for, 208 

"Little rains," 3, 58, 235 

"Livers, tropical," 225 

Livingstone, 217 

Loam, rich, of Uganda, 247, 248 
Lochfyne, Mabira forest, 246 

Loder, , African farmer, 192 

Loder, Sir Edmund, 206 

Loita Masai, tribe of, 34, 75; see 

Toroni (Masai chief) 
Londiani Station, 204 
London, Mr., deceased, 193 
London, price of rubber in, 240, 243, 


Long Juju Farm, 188, 202 
Long Tom, Juja pony, 191 
Longworth, "Daddy," 260 
" Looseandgiddy " camp, 94, 95, 103, 

108, 161 

Lucania Range, 201 
Lucas, Miss, of Donya Sabuk, 189 
Lucas, Mr., killed by lion, 189, 259, 


Luck bird (Ol Toilo), Wanderobo, 122 
Lugard, Captain, 212, 232 
Lumbwa country, trophies from, 187 
Lumbwa highlands, 75 
Lumbwa range, 64 
Lumbwa station on Uganda Railway, 

64, 65, 175, 176 
Lumbwa tribe, 64, 116-119, 127, 131, 

135, 138, 161, 162, 171 
Luquata, lake monster, 134 
Luziro, 209-211 


Mabira forest, 230, 232, 235, 237-247 
Mabira headquarters, 239, 245, 246 
Machakos Fort, 197, 258 
Machakos Range, 196, 199-201 
Mackie, Captain F. Percival, 222 
Mad Mullah, 181 
Madagascar, steamers for, 278 
Madden, Angus, 176 
Mafeking, relief of, 265 
Mafuta, 137-139 
Magadi, Lake, 5, 9, n, 193 
Maggori River, 75, 89, 93, 94, 96, 

105-107, 131, 132, 135, 137, 138, 161 
Mahdi's downfall, 181 
Mahdist swordsmen, 181 
Mahogany, 237 
Makalinga, 193 

Malarial fever, 146, 179, 234, 239 
Mamba, 171, 238 
Man-eating lions, 193, 194, 207, 208, 

255. 256 

Maneless (bush) lion, 46 
Manga Lumbwa tribe, 127 



Manual labor performed by blacks, 

227, 249 

Maps, African, 88 
Mara River, 52, 57, 58, 60, 61, 66, 67, 

88, 108, 113 

Marabout storks, 16, 56, 104 
Marathon race, Uganda Exhibition, 

216, 231 

Marauding night prowlers, 91, 92 
Marini, Menyamwezi native, 137-139 
Marlow, William, 188, 202 
Martin, ex-Collector James, 134, 224, 

231, 232, 239, 245 
Masai tribe, 4, 34, 61-65, 67, 68, 72- 

75, 89, 93-96, 98-101, 105, 106, 119, 

134, 135. 279 
Matabeleland, 283 
Mataia (Lumbwa chief), 119, 127, 

128, 131, 133, 134, 139, 143-145. 

147, 152-157, 159, 166, 167, 171 
Matthews, General, 231 
Mau Escarpment, 8, 17, 24, 34-36, 64, 


Mau Plateau, 40, 44 
Mbango, Mabira forest, 246, 247 

McClellan, , killed by lion, 256 

McClure, District Commissioner, 4 
McMillan, William Northrup, 181, 

183, 186, 188, 192, 201-203, 20 S> 

206, 267, 268, 276, 278 
McMillan, Mrs. William Northrup, 


Medinacoli, Duke de, 281 
Melbourne, S. S., 177 (note), 201 

(note), 206 

Mengo Hill, Kampala, 209, 212, 232 
Merry-go-round at Uganda Exhibi- 
tion, 212 
Mesageries, Compagnie, steamers, 

Mesageries Maritimes, Cie, 177 (note), 


Metama, 66, 78, 86, 222 
Miller, Joaquin, 225 
Missionaries, 209, 261, 262 
Missionary, medical, among Mo- 
hammedans, 261, 262 
Mohammedan Somali shikaris, 260, 


Mohammedan Swahili, 66, 181, 186 
Mohammedan worshippers, 18, 19, 261 
Molo, of safari staff, 2, 37-39 
Molo River, 166 
Mombasa, 131, 186, 193, 199, 202, 

206, 207, 210, 218, 231, 232, 244, 

268, 269, 278 

Mombasa prison, 228 
Mongorrori tribe, 134 
Monkeys, 7, 32, 36, 37, 57, 58, 101, 

189, 238 

"Mono-rail system," Kampala's, 211 
Moose, danger from a wounded, 177 
Mosoni, 128, 131, 133, 139, 159, 167 
Mosquito a possible communicator of 

sleeping sickness, 223 
M'piri (cobra), 42 
M'tongwe, natives of, 193 
Mud, natural element of elephant, 77 
Mules, 192 

Mules, safe-footed, 76 
Munyata, Masai, 61 
Murchison Bay, 209 
Muscat, Imaum of, 269 
Musical instruments, native, 236 
Mutesa, King, 209 

Muvule, species in Mabira forest, 241 
Mwanga, King, 232 


Nabrisi (Wanderobo), 165, 166 

Nairobi, 3, 57, 78, 167, 176, 186, 203- 
205, 209, 218, 269, 276, 278-281 

Nairobi Caledonian Society, St. An- 
drew's dinner of, 282 

Nairobi Hospital, 260 

Nairobi jail, 228 

Naivasha, 203 

Naivasha, Lake, 203 

Nakasero Hill, Kampala, 212 

Namirembe Hill, Kampala, 212, 213 

Napoleon Gulf, 233 

Native methods at Uganda Exhibi- 
tion, 215 

Native races in North and South 
America and Central Africa, 218, 

Natron, Lake, 20, 24, 26 

N'durugo River, 188, 266 

Neville's Horse (Boer War), 196 

New Mexico, grazing lands of, 248 

New Year's Eve in the jungle, 45, 46 

Newland, Tarlton and Co., Limited, 
193, 281 

N'garami, Lake, 9 

N'gararu Hills, 166 

N'gari Kiti River, 16, 17. 34, 36 

N'gari Kiti swamp, 24-26 

N'gari Nyiro River, 34 

N'garoyo River, 145 

Ngong range, 4 

Ngong Spring, 5 



N'guraman Mountain, 17 

Nile, Blue, 181 

Nile delta, 201 (note) 

Nile River, 88, 177, 204, 205, 214, 223, 

230-234, 246, 283 

Nile, upper, navigation, head of, 205 
Nile, White, 233 
Nimule, 205 

Nobility, sportsmen from the, 281 
Noises emitted by lion, 19, 40, 41, 68 
Norfolk Hotel, 281 
North America, big game shooting in, 


North America, settlement of, con- 
trasted with that of Equatorial 
Africa, 218, 220 

North American pioneers, 225-227 

Northcote, Assistant Deputy Com- 
missioner, 83, 84, 88, 89, 108, 161, 

Nsambya Hill, Kampala, 212 

Nubians, 213 

Nundewat, 83 

Nyeri, 204 

Nysambia, species in Mabira forest, 


Ogadan, plains of, 181 

Okapi, 131 

Ol Albwa, Mount, 40-43 

Ol Toilo, Wanderobo luck bird, 122 

Olympia Marathon race, 216 

Omdurman, battle of, 181 

Orange Colony, 284 

Orchids, 238 

Oribi, 46, 109, no 

Oryx, 271, 276, 277 

Osman, of safari staff, 182 

Ostrich, 189, 196 

Ostrich Hill, 189 

Outram, George Henry, i, 6, 8, n, 
12, 14, 22, 24, 25, 27, 35, 40-42, 
44-46, 48, 52, 54, 56, 60, 62, 68, 
69, 72, 78, 79, 86, 89, 96, 97, 99, 
loo, 102, 109-111, 113, 134, 139, 

160, 166, 175, 176 
Outram Pass, 34, 35 
Owen Falls, 231 
Oxus, S. S., 206 

Oyani River, 75, 77-79, 83, 84, 88, 96, 

161, 221, 222 

Palffy, Count, 281 

Palms, trace of Arab dominion, 268 

Panama, malarial fevers at, 234 

Papayas, 247 

Papyrus swamps along the Kamiti, 

Papyrus swamps along the Seziwa, 246 

Para rubber, 239, 240, 243, 244, 247 

Parasitic vines, 237 

Parenti, Cavaliere A., 206, 207 

Parrots, 238 

Parsee merchants in Nairobi, 279 

Paths made by the Big Ones, 17 

"Patience," watchword of big game 
hunters, 276 

"Patients," native, 93, 94 

Patterson, Colonel, 208 

Pease, Sir Alfred, 186, 195, 199, 
200, 203, 206 

Pease, Lady, and daughter, 206 

Penaranola, Duke de, 281 

Penton, , of Donya Sabuk, 188 

Permanganate, pure crystals of, 
wounds cauterized with, 265 

Persians at Mombasa, 268 

Photographs, 48 

Pigs, wild, 126 

Pineapples, 247 

Pioneers, 225-227 

Plains, Western, in early '7o's, 44 

Plantain trees, 238 

Plowden, Sir E. and Lady, 281 

Poisoned arrows, 28-30, 71 

Polar Star not visible, 59 

Policemen as lion-hunters, 208 

Ponies, how used in lion shooting, 202, 
255, 266 

Ponies, Juja shooting, 191 

Ponies, value of, 282 

Population of Equatorial Africa, 219, 
220, 223 

Population of Uganda, Unyoro, and 
Usoga reduced by sleeping sick- 
ness, 221 

Port Florence, 79, 269 

Porters, safari, 2, 3, 7, 10, 37-39, 66, 
68, 76, 77, 88, no, 148, 167, 183, 
185, 186, 222, 235, 236, 282 

Portuguese at Mombasa, 268, 269 

Portuguese East Africa, 283 

Portuguese territory, sleeping sickness 
in, 221 

Posho, vegetable food for porters, 3, 
66, 79, 86 

Power at head of Nile, 234 

Prayers of Mohammedan worship- 
pers, 1 8, 19, 261 

Predatory beasts, 192, 194 



Prinsloo, , Boer farmer, 201 

"Protected" game, 192 

Ptomaine poisoning, natives not sub- 
ject to, 219 

Puff adders, 238 

Pugge, Outram's terrier, 54, no, in 

Pulmonary diseases among natives, 

Pungwe River, 2 

Python, 171, 179, 189, 191, 238 


Race suicide among Baganda natives, 


Raids, inter-tribal, 237 

Railway between Luziro and Kam- 
pala, 210 

Railway, "Cape to Cairo," 233, 234 

Railway from Jinja to Lake Kioga, 


Railway to Lake Magadi, proposed, 5 
"Records of Big Game," Rowland 

Ward, 30, 159 
Reed buck, 189, 271 
Regalia of Kavirondo chief, 84, 85, 87 
Reunion, steamers for, 278 
Rhino, white, 204 
Rhinos, 14, 20-24, 46, 117, 139-141, 

169, 171-173, 177, 178, 180, 192, 

199, 204, 255, 270, 271, 273, 274, 

276, 283 

Rhodes, Cecil, 234 
Rhodesia> 81, 221, 234, 283 
Rhododendron-like bush, 140 
Riches of natives, 227 
Rift Valley, 9, 24 

Ripon Falls, 230-235, 246, 249, 251 
Road from Entebbe to Hoima, 205 
Roads in Uganda, 204, 214 
Roan antelope, 52, 53, no, 128-130, 

204, 271, 276 
"Roar" of lion, 41 
Robertsi, 44 

Robinson, , 14 

Robley, Adam, 182 

Roman rule in Britannia, 219 

Rongana River and adjacent country, 

118, 135, 144, 145, 148, 163-165, 

167, 204 

Roosevelt, Kermit, 185, 186 
Roosevelt, Mr., 34, 177, 178, 180-187, 

189-192, 195, 200-206 
Royal Geographical Society, 88 
Royal Society, 220 
"Rub-downs," elephant, 95, 96, 103 

Rubaga Hill, Kampala, 212 

Rubber industry, 230, 232, 237, 239- 

244, 246-248 
Rubber, wild, in "closed" districts, 


Rubeni, second in Marathon race, 216 
Ruero Falls, 266 
Rumuruti Boma, 166, 204, 256 

Rutherfoord, , African farmer, 192 

Ruwero River, 188 

Ryall, Mr., killed by lion while asleep 

in railway carriage, 207 

Sable antelope, 271, 276 

Sadler, Col. Sir James Hayes, 282 

Safari, discipline of natives on, 136, 

137, 182-184, 228 
Safari leaders, professional, 179 
Safari life training in patience, 3 
Safari outfitting, 281, 282 
Safari parties made up at Nairobi, 281 
Safari, Mr. Roosevelt's, in B. E. A., 


Safari staff, 2, 181, 182, 281, 282 
Safari travel, 5, 37-39, 57, 76, 176, 281 
Safari, white men on, 185, 186, 281 
Saiba, headman, 78 
Saint Joseph's Mission, Kampala, 212 
St. Louis Exhibition, "Great White 

Way" at, 212 
Salem, of safari staff, 2, 90, 133, 144, 

162, 182 

Salt springs on Rongana River, 144, 

Sambi River, 142, 148, 151, 160, 161, 

163, 165, 169 

Sandals, porters', made from giraffe 

skin, 14-16 

Sanseviera, wild fibre plant, 32 
Scala, Marquis de la, 281 
Schlobach, Herr Hauptmann, 91, 92 
Seasons in Africa, 58, 108 
Selous, F. C., 31, 180, 184, 185, 203, 


Sessi group of islands, 81, 220 
Sessi River, 175 
Setik, John Alfred Jordan in the, 


Sewall, Mr., 210 
Seziwa River, 246 
Shambas (farms), native, 227 
Shammers, treatment of, 7 
Shombol Mountain, 24 
Signal fires, 39 



Sikh constables in Nairobi, 279 

Sikh Infantry, 212, 213 

Simba, station on Uganda Railway, 


Sisal, 247, 248 
Skinning of elephant, 161 
Slave trade of Mombasa, 268 
Sleeping sickness, 80-83, 134, 179, 

220-223, 234, 237 
Sleeping Sickness Camp of Assistant 

Deputy Commissioner Northcote 

and Dr. Baker, 78-80, 82-84, 161, 


"Small (settler's) license," 226 

Smith, Colonel G. E., 199 

Smithsonian Institution, representa- 
tives of, 185, 1 86 

Snakes in Mabira forest, 247 

Sobat River, 178, 181, 205 

Society for the Prevention of Cruelty 
to Animals, 177, 192, 194 

Soiat Hill, 166 

Somali, food of, 66 

Somali shikaris as lion hunters, 260, 
262, 264, 265 

Somali shikaris, characteristics of, 182, 
183, 260-262, 265 

Somaliland, 181, 283 

Somalis as safari staff, 182, 183, 191, 

Somalis, dress of, 279 

Sony a (volcano), 24 

Sotik boma, 169, 204 

Sotik boma chief, 169 

Sotik country, 65, 168, 187, 203, 271 

Soudanese, 213 

South America, big game shooting in, 


South America, settlement of, con- 
trasted with that of Equatorial 
Africa, 218 

South American rubber product, 242 

Southern Cross, 58, 59, 210 

Southern Masai, see Masai 

Southern Masai Reserve Boma, 4 

Spear thrusts of Arab Tumo, 171-173 

Speke, 88, 217, 231 

Speke's discovery of Victoria Nyanza, 

Spirits, use of, by Africanders, 83, 225 

Spooring, skilful, 70 

Sport, British, 282 

Sport, essentially relative, 254 

Sportsman's license, 113, 115, 131, 
167, 188, 191, 192, 226, 257, 282 

Sportsmen, dilettanti, 179 

Stallions, Arab, for Mr. Roosevelt's 
use, 200 

Stanley, 217, 231, 232, 243, 251 

Stanton, Mr., 193, 194 

Stars of southern sky, 58, 59 

Stations in Mabira forest, 246, 247 

Steady shooting dependent on regular 
breathing, 21 

Steamers operated by Uganda Rail- 
way on Victoria Nyanza, 205 

Styles change among natives, 64, 65 

Sugota Game Reserve, 271 

Sultan Hamud, station on Uganda 
Railway, 207 

Sultani of Jalou Nilotic Kavirondo 
villages, 78 

"Sundowner," 83 

Swahili, food of, 66, 185, 186 

Swahilis as safari staff, 182, 185 

Swahilis, dress of, 279 

Swallows, aerial corsairs, 25 1 

Sweet potatoes, 247 

Swift, , African farmer, 192 

Sybil, 232 

Syphilis among natives, 220 

Tana River, 271, 283 

Tanga, 218 

Tanganyika, Lake, 221, 231 

Tanks, natural, on Lenderut River, 48 

Tarlton, , professional safari leader, 

179, 193, 281 
Taxation, 249 

Terrier as game dog, 54, no, in 
Texas, grazing lands of, 248 
Theika River, 262 
Theki Farm, 186, 187, 195, 200, 201, 

203, 206 

Theki, Mt., 199, 200, 202 
Thompson, Joseph, 231 
Thompsoni, 189 
Thorn bush interwoven with elephant 

grass, 150, 173 
Tick fever, 179 
Tiger, Asiatic, 177 
Timber trees in Mabira forest, 237, 


Times, London Weekly, 88 
Tommys, 46, 68, 191, 194 
Tompkins, S. C-, C. M. G., Chief 

Secretary of Uganda, 224, 239, 258 
Tools for rubber tapping used at 

Mabira forest, 239, 243 
Topi, 51, 53-55, 68, 69, 89 



Toro, King, of, 214 

Toro, Uganda Province of, 204 

Toroni (Masai chief), 75, 76, 89-91, 

93-95. 161 

Totos, Kavirondo, 85 
Trade goods, 64, 65, 86 
Transportation facilities to Uganda 

Exhibition, 209 
Transvaal, 284 
Transvaal trek wagon, 280 
Transvaal War, 115 
Trophies, 19, 23, 24, 30, 31, 33, 34, 37. 

59, 90, 91, 158, 159, 167, 176, 179, 

253, 265, 268, 276 
"Tropical livers," 225 
Trypanosomiasis, see Sleeping sickness 
Tsavo River, 270 
Tsavo, station on Uganda Railway, 

Tsetse fly, 35, 80, 81, 221, 223, 234, 

Turks at Mombasa, 268 


Uasin Guishu Plateau, 204 

Uganda Exhibition, 209, 212-216, 231 

Uganda Hills, 210 

Uganda natives, 211, 212, 236 

Uganda Protectorate, 80, 199, 204, 

214, 218, 221, 227, 230, 232, 236, 

243, 247, 248, 271 
Uganda Railway, 64, 79, 114, 175, 

176, 186, 205-209, 226, 269, 270 
Uganda, sleeping sickness in, 82 
Ukamba, District of, 197 
Ukamba Game Reserve, 4 
Ukamba, Province of B. E. A., 231, 


Uklanski, Baron von, 281 
Unclassified species of African game, 

130, 131, 133, 134 
" Unknown " regions of Africa, 88 
Unyoro, King of, 214 
Unyoro, sleeping sickness in, 221 
Usoga, Saza chief of, 214 
Usoga, sleeping sickness in, 221 
Usoga, women of, 237 

Vegetarians, native, 34, 66 

Vehicles and beasts in Nairobi streets, 

"Vermin" under game laws, 192, 257 

Vice among natives, 220 
Victoria Nyanza, Lake, 57, 75, 79-81, 
88, 133, 134, 204, 205, 209, 220, 

221, 223, 230, 231, 250-252, 269, 283 

Victoria Nyanza, Lake, islands in, 

220, 221, 231, 234 
Vitality of game, 33, 37, 53, 54, 89, 

109, no, 177, 275, 277 
Voi, station on Uganda Railway, 269, 


Volcanic region deficient in water, 5, 8 
Volcanic region, scenery in, 8 
Vultures, 56, 104 


Wakamba tribe, 62, 66, 72, 279 
Wakikuyu tribe, 62, 66 
Waleran, Lord and Lady, 281 
Walleye, Juja pony, 191, 196 
Wami Farm, 195, 201 
Wami, Mt., 199, 200, 202 
Wanderobo, 4, 19, 28-30, 64, 66, 117- 

123, 127, 129, 130, 134-136. i3 8 . 

139, 142, 143, .145. l6 3, i 6 5. l66 
Wantarunta, Mabira forest, 246 
War dance, Kavirondo, 87 
Ward, Rowland, 23, 30, 59, 159 
Warfare, inter-tribal, 219, 223 
Wart-hog, in, 189, 266 
Wasoga tribe, 134 

Wassama, Regal, 2, 13, 18, 19, 66, 181 
Waste in rubber industry, 242 
Water buck, 51-56, 109, 123, 129, 189 
Water python, see Python 
Water supply, 5-11, 40, 45 
Water tanks, natural, 5-7, 9, n, 45 
Weavers, native, 215 
Wembe, Kavirondo, 87 
West, freight rates in, 249 
White Fathers at Kampala, 212 
White men at Victoria Nyanza, first, 


White Nile, 233 
White settlers in Equatorial Africa, 

218, 224-228, 239, 249, 271, 282, 283 
White victims of sleeping sickness, 82, 

179, 222 

Wild dog, 41, 42 
Wildebeeste, 26, 44, 123-125, 277 
Wind, working up, in stalking game, 

Wives of Chief Mataia, treatment of, 

Wives of King of Ankole, 216 



Wodehouse, Lord, 281 

Women, Kavirondo, 85, 86, 211, 212, 


Women, Kikuyu, 279 
Women, native, work the farms, 227, 


Women of Usoga, 237 
Women, types of native, 218 
Women, Uganda, 211, 212, 236 
Wounds and punishment, recovery 

from, 165, 184, 219 
Wounds inflicted by lion, 202, 257 
Wrestling matches, native, 247 

Yankee and Briton manners toward 

strangers, 78, 79 
Yardley, Col., 281 
Yellowstone Park, 270 


Zambesi River, 283 

Zanzibar, Star of, 214 

Zanzibar, Sultan of, 214, 231, 269 

Zebra, 125, 189, 194, 255, 282 

Zichy, Count, 281 

Zimba invasion, 269 

University of California 


305 De Neve Drive - Parking Lot 17 Box 951388 


Return this material to the library from which it was borrowed. 


1 5 2005 

3 1205 00813 3918 


A 000 580 973 6