The Wanderings of an Elephant Hunter

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Title: The Wanderings of an Elephant Hunter
Author: Bell, W. D. M.
Language: English
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HUNTER ***

THE WANDERINGS OF AN ELEPHANT HUNTER

[Illustration: COUNTRY LIFE]

_First published in 1923_

[Illustration: THE NATIVE ATTACK.

_Frontispiece._]

THE
WANDERINGS OF AN
ELEPHANT HUNTER

BY
W. D. M. BELL

LONDON

PUBLISHED AT THE OFFICES OF “COUNTRY LIFE,” LTD.,
20, TAVISTOCK ST., COVENT GARDEN, W.C.2, AND BY
GEORGE NEWNES, LTD., 8-11, SOUTHAMPTON ST., STRAND, W.C.2
NEW YORK: CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS

MCMXXIII

_Printed in Great Britain._

CONTENTS

PAGE

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS vii

CHAPTER

I. HUNTING THE BIG BULL ELEPHANT 1

II. THE BRAIN SHOT AT ELEPHANT 5

III. THE BODY SHOT AT ELEPHANT 8

IV. AFRICAN “MEDICINE” OR WITCHCRAFT AND ITS BEARING ON SPORT 12

V. KARAMOJO 20

I. INTO THE UNKNOWN 20

II. IVORY AND THE RAIDERS 31

III. THE COMING OF PYJALÉ 44

VI. DABOSSA 59

VII. THROUGH THE SUDD OF THE GELO RIVER 78

VIII. THE LADO ENCLAVE 87

IX. HUNTING IN LIBERIA 105

X. BUBA GIDA, THE LAST AFRICAN POTENTATE 128

XI. BUBA GIDA AND THE LAKKAS 135

XII. THE ASCENT OF THE BAHR AOUCK 149

XIII. BUFFALO 170

XIV. AFRICAN LIONS 175

XV. RIFLES 179

XVI. AFRICAN ADMINISTRATIONS 184

INDEX 188

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

The Native Attack _Frontispiece_

The Falling Spear: the Deadliest Native Elephant Trap _Facing_ 2

The Marauding Bull ” 3

Spear Weighing about Four Hundred Pounds ” 3

The Deadliest and Most Humane Method of Killing the
African Elephant ” 6

The Brain Shot from Behind ” 6

The Position of the Brain when the Head is Viewed from
the Front ” 6

Locating the Brain with the Side of the Head to the Sportsman ” 6

The Elephant, after the Brain Shot, Dies Quietly ” 7

The Angry Bull ” 8

Where the Windpipe enters the Body is the Spot to Hit ” 8

Elephant in the Country Most Suited to the Body Shot ” 8

With One Eye Shut ” 8

With Both Eyes Open ” 8

The Dotted Lines show the Position of the Heart and Lungs ” 8

With the Herd in the Pairing Season ” 9

Elephant Slinking Away, Warned of the Approach of Man by
Honey-Guides ” 14

Medicine indeed! ” 15

He Shook His Head so Violently in the Death Throes that
a Tusk Flew Out ” 16

A M’Boni Village ” 17

M’Sanya Bow and Poisoned Arrow ” 18

A Patriarch ” 18

“A Small Native Boy was in the Act of Pinking an Enormous
Elephant” ” 19

Poor Karamojans, showing Periwigs ” 34

Carrying the Ivory ” 35

Elephant Snare Net Set, but not yet Covered ” 36

Karamojan Warrior ” 37

That Lunatic Pyjalé Spears an Elephant ” 44

Longelly-Nymung, the Author’s Blood Brother ” 56

The Return of the Safari ” 57

“The Elephant nearly fell over with Fright” ” 64

Watching the Northern Trail for the Returning Raiders ” 65

From the Look-out Hill ” 72

The “Elephant Cemetery” ” 73

The Camp Chronicler ” 76

Abyssinian Slavers ” 77

A Shot from the Shoulders of a Tall Native ” 86

Telescope Tripod as Stand in High Grass ” 87

Elephant in the Upper Nile Swamp ” 94

In the Lado Enclave: White Rhino, Lion and Elephant ” 95

Looking into the Brilliantly Lit Open Space from the
Twilight of the Forest ” 102

Suliemani bumps into his Bull ” 104

The Arrival in West Africa ” 105

A Colony of “Chimps” Fruit-gathering ” 118

Small Elephant of Liberia ” 119

The Palaver with the King ” 124

The Silent Town ” 128

Outside the Walls ” 129

Commanders of Regiments ” 130

Chiefs in Armour with Arrow-proof Quilts ” 131

An Enormous Man, Fully Seven Feet High, rose from
a Pile of Rags ” 132

Whenever the King Sneezes, Coughs or Spits the Attendant
Slaves break into Loud Wailing ” 133

In Buba Rei ” 136

A Foot Soldier ” 137

Lakkas, Shy and Nervous ” 140

Buba Gida’s Elephant Hunters ” 141

He Disappeared into the Thick Stuff ” 146

There He was now Facing Me ” 147

Gallery Forest and Baboon ” 150

Camp on Lake Léré ” 151

A Man-Eater, from whose Inside a Woman’s Bangle was
taken ” 152

Native Decoys ” 154

Whistling Teal and Locust Storks ” 154

Rolling up Hippo ” 154

The Small Canoe Up-streaming ” 155

Hippopotamus in the Shallows ” 156

W., in the Small Canoe, runs into a Rising Hippo ” 157

Spur-winged Geese ” 158

Male Egyptian Geese in Breeding Season ” 159

Sky Black with Wildfowl ” 160

Rhino nearly have our Cook ” 161

Musgum Village ” 162

Mud Huts: Musgum ” 163

A Water Buck ” 164

Female Water Buck on Sandbank ” 165

Doe Kob and Calf well Camouflaged ” 166

Cow Hippo and Calf ” 167

Arab Spear for Ham-stringing Elephant ” 168

Portaging Canoes ” 168

The Kilangozi or Head Porter who carried this Tusk
(148 lbs.) for Sixty-three Consecutive Marching Days ” 169

In Thick Stuff ” 170

Worthy Game ” 170

Some Retreating Cleverly Backwards and Receiving the
Charging Animals’ Rushes on their Shields ” 171

Driven Out of the Reed Beds ” 176

“A Magnificent Male deliberately Turned and Stood
Facing Me” ” 176

Chasing Off an Intruder ” 176

Spotted! ” 177

THE WANDERINGS OF AN ELEPHANT HUNTER

HUNTING THE BIG BULL ELEPHANT

The most interesting and exciting form of elephant-hunting is the pursuit
of the solitary bull. These fine old patriarchs stand close on twelve
feet high at the shoulder and weigh from twelve thousand to fourteen
thousand pounds or more, and carry tusks from eighty to one hundred
and eighty pounds each. They are of great age, probably a hundred or a
hundred and fifty years old. These enormous animals spend their days
in the densest part of the bush and their nights in destroying native
plantations.

It is curious that an animal of such a size, and requiring such huge
quantities of food, should trouble to eat ground nuts—or peanuts, as they
are called in this country. Of course, he does not pick them up singly,
but plucks up the plant, shakes off the loose earth and eats the roots
with the nuts adhering to them. One can imagine the feelings of a native
when he discovers that during the night his plantation has been visited
by an elephant.

The dense part of the bush where the elephant passes his day is often
within half a mile of his nightly depredations, and it is only through
generations of experience that these wicked old animals are enabled to
carry on their marauding life. Many bear with them the price of their
experience in the shape of bullets and iron spear-heads; the natives
set traps for them also, the deadliest one being the falling spear. Of
all devices for killing elephants known to primitive man this is the
most efficient. The head and shank of the spear are made by the native
blacksmith, and the whole thing probably weighs about four hundred
pounds and requires eight men to haul it into position. To set the trap
a spot is chosen in the forest where an elephant-path passes under a
suitable tree. A sapling of some twelve feet in length is then cut. One
end is made to fit tightly into the socket of the spear-head and to the
other end is attached a rope. The spear end of the rope is then placed
over a high bough at a point directly over the path, while the other
end is taken down to one side of the path, then across it and made fast
to a kind of trigger mechanism. It is placed at such a height from the
ground as will allow buffalo and antelope to pass under it but not a
full-grown elephant. He will have to push it out of his way. This part of
the rope is generally made of a bush vine or creeper. If all goes well,
an elephant comes along the path, catches the creeper on his forehead or
chest, pushes it sufficiently to snap it off, and then down hurtles the
huge spear, descending point first with terrific force on neck, shoulder
or ribs. I have seen taken from an old bull’s neck a piece of iron three
feet long and almost eaten away. The wound had completely healed and it
may have been there for years. If, however, the spear strikes the spine,
death is instantaneous.

[Illustration: THE FALLING SPEAR: THE DEADLIEST NATIVE ELEPHANT TRAP.]

[Illustration: THE MARAUDING BULL.]

[Illustration: This spear, weighing about four hundred pounds and
provided with a twelve-foot shaft, is hung head downwards from a tree.
The rope, of vine or creeper, which holds it up, is stretched across an
elephant-path, so that, in passing, the animal must snap it, liberating
the spear to drop upon his own head or ribs.]

To get within hearing distance of these old elephants is comparatively
easy. You simply pick up the enormous tracks in the early morning and
follow them into their stronghold. Sometimes, after going quite a short
distance through fairly open forest, you begin to find it more and more
difficult to force your way along. The tracks are still there, but
everything gives way before the elephant and closes in behind him again.
Here in the dark cool parts there are no flies, so that the flapping
and banging of ears, the usual warning of an elephant’s presence, are
lacking. The light begins to fail; air currents are non-existent, or so
light they cannot be felt; the silence is profound. Monkeys and parrots
are away in the more open parts. You may expect to hear your game at
any moment now. You hope to see him, but your luck is in if you do. At
the most you will see a high and ghostly stern flitting through the
undergrowth, sometimes disconcertingly close in front of you. Literally
nothing indicates the presence of such an enormous animal, and if it
were not for the swish of the bush as it closes in behind him you would
find it hard to believe that he was so close. His feet, softly cushioned
with spongy gristle, make no sound. He seems to know that his stern is
invulnerable alike to bullets or spears; while his huge ears, acting
as sound-collecting discs, catch with their wide expanse the slightest
sound of an enemy. He shows no sign of panic; there is no stampede as
with younger elephants when they are disturbed; only a quiet, persistent
flitting away. You may concentrate on going quietly; you may, and
probably do, discard your leg gear in order to make less sound; you
redouble your stealth; all in vain. He knows the game and will play
hide-and-seek with you all day long and day after day. Not that this
silent retreat is his only resource—by no means—he can in an instant
become a roaring, headlong devil. The transformation from that silent,
rakish, slinking stern to high-thrown head, gleaming tusks and whirling
trunk, now advancing directly upon you, is a nerve test of the highest
order. The noise is terrific. With his trunk he lashes the bushes. His
great sides crash the trees down in every direction, dragging with them
in their fall innumerable creepers. The whole forest is in an uproar.
Much of this clatter the experienced hunter writes off as bluff, for
after a short, sharp rush of this sort he will often come to a dead stop
and listen intently. Here, again, his long experience has taught him that
his enemy will now be in full retreat, and in most cases he is right.
Certainly no native hunter waits to see, and most white men will find
they have an almost uncontrollable desire to turn and flee, if only for a
short way. With the deadliest of modern rifles it is only a very fleeting
chance that one gets at his brain. The fact that the distance at which
his head emerges from the masses of foliage is so small, and the time so
short until he is right over you, in fact, makes this kind of hunting
the most exciting and interesting of any in Africa, or the world, as I
think most men who have experienced it will agree. If the shot at the
brain is successful the monster falls and the hunter is rewarded with two
magnificent tusks. And great will be the rejoicing among the natives at
learning of his death, not only for the feast of meat, but also to know
that their plantations have been rid of the marauding pest.

THE BRAIN SHOT AT ELEPHANT

The hunting of the African elephant is now restricted in so many ways
that it is difficult for anyone to gain experience in the shooting of
them. In most of the protectorates or dependencies of the European powers
a licence to kill two in a year costs from £40 to £80. It therefore
behoves the sportsman to make a good job of it when he does come face to
face with these splendid animals.

Twenty-five years ago parts of Africa were still open to unrestricted
hunting, and it is from a stock of experience—gathered during years
devoted to this fascinating pursuit—that I am about to draw, in the hope
that it may assist the sportsman to bring about a successful termination
to his hunt and perhaps save some unfortunate animal from a lingering
death due to wounds.

In hunting elephant, as in other things, what will suit one man may not
suit another. Every hunter has different methods and uses different
rifles. Some believe in the big bores, holding that the bigger the bore
therefore the greater the shock. Others hold that the difference between
the shock from a bullet of, say, 250 grs. and that from a bullet of, say,
500 grs. is so slight that, when exercised upon an animal of such bulk
as an elephant, it amounts to nothing at all. And there is no end to the
arguments and contentions brought forward by either side; therefore it
should be borne in mind when reading the following instructions that they
are merely the result of one individual’s personal experience and not the
hard and fast rules of an exact science.

As regards rifles, I will simply state that I have tried the following:
·416, ·450/·400, ·360, ·350, ·318, ·275 and ·256. At the time I
possessed the double ·400 I also had a ·275. Sometimes I used one and
sometimes the other, and it began to dawn on me that when an elephant was
hit in the right place with the ·275 it died just as quickly as when hit
with the ·400, and, _vice versa_, when the bullet from either rifle was
wrongly placed death did not ensue. In pursuance of this train of thought
I wired both triggers of the double ·450/·400 together, so that when I
pulled the rear one both barrels went off simultaneously. By doing this
I obtained the equivalent of 800 grs. of lead propelled by 120 grs. of
cordite. The net result was still the same. If wrongly placed, the 800
grs. from the ·400 had no more effect than the 200 grs. from the ·275.
For years after that I continued to use the ·275 and the ·256 in all
kinds of country and for all kinds of game. Each hunter should use the
weapon he has _most confidence_ in.

The deadliest and most humane method of killing the African elephant is
the shot in the brain. Its advantages over the body shot are numerous,
but among them may be mentioned that it causes instantaneous death, and
no movement of the stricken animal communicates panic to others in the
vicinity. The mere falling of the body from the upright to a kneeling
or lying position does not appear in practice to have any other effect
than to make the others mildly curious as to what has happened. On the
other hand, if there are several elephants together and the heart shot
is employed, the one hit almost invariably rushes off with a groan and
squirm for fifty or a hundred yards, taking with him his companions,
which do not stop when he stops, but continue their flight for miles.
Another great advantage that the brain shot has over the heart shot is
that with the former there is no search for the dead animal, whereas
with the latter it is sometimes extremely difficult to find it in thick
bush even when lying within fifty or sixty yards of the spot from which
the shot was fired. Again, the smallest bore rifles with cartridges of a
modern military description, such as the ·256, ·275, ·303 or ·318, are
quite sufficiently powerful for the brain shot. The advantages of these I
need hardly enumerate, such as their cheapness, reliability, handiness,
lightness, freedom from recoil, etc. For the brain shot only bullets
with an unbroken metal envelope (_i.e._, solids) should be employed; and
those showing good weight, moderate velocity, with a blunt or round-nosed
point, are much better than the more modern high velocity sharp-pointed
variety. They keep a truer course, and are not so liable to turn over as
the latter.

[Illustration: THE DEADLIEST AND MOST HUMANE METHOD OF KILLING THE
AFRICAN ELEPHANT IS THE SHOT IN THE COMPARATIVELY SMALL BRAIN CONTAINED
IN HIS GIGANTIC HEAD.]

[Illustration: THE BRAIN SHOT FROM BEHIND.]

[Illustration: THE POSITION OF THE BRAIN WHEN THE HEAD IS VIEWED FROM THE
FRONT.]

[Illustration: LOCATING THE BRAIN WITH THE SIDE OF THE HEAD TO THE
SPORTSMAN.]

[Illustration: THE ELEPHANT, AFTER THE BRAIN SHOT, DIES QUIETLY AND THE
OTHERS DO NOT TAKE ALARM.]

The greatest disadvantage the brain shot has is the difficulty of
locating the comparatively small brain in the enormous head. The best way
is, of course, to kill an elephant by the heart shot and very carefully
to dissect the head, thereby finding out the position of the brain in
relation to the prominent points or marks on the head, such as the eyes
and ear holes. Unfortunately for this scheme, the head is never in the
same position when the animal is dead as when alive, as an elephant
hardly ever dies kneeling when a body shot has been given him.

The experienced elephant shot can reach the brain from almost any angle,
and with the head in almost any position. But the novice will be well
advised to try the broadside shot only. Having mastered this and studied
the frontal shot, he may then try it. When successful with the above
two shots he may be able to reach the zenith of the elephant hunter’s
ambition, _i.e._, to kill instantaneously any of these huge pachyderms
with one tiny nickel pencil-like bullet when moving or stationary and
from any angle.

From the point of view of danger to the hunter, should a miss occur, an
ineffective shot in the head does not appear to have the enraging effect
a body shot elsewhere than in the vitals sometimes has. Should the bullet
miss the brain, but still pass sufficiently close to it to stun the
animal, he will drop to every appearance dead. If no convulsive jerking
of the limbs is noticed he is only stunned, and should be given another
shot, as otherwise he will soon get up and make off as if nothing had
touched him.

III

THE BODY SHOT AT ELEPHANT

Although the brain shot is speedier in result and more humane if bungled
than the body shot, yet the latter is not to be despised. Many hunters
employ no other. These will generally be found to be adherents to the
“Big Bore” school. The heart and lungs of an elephant present, together
with the huge arteries immediately adjacent, a large enough target for
anyone, provided his or her nerves are sufficiently controlled to allow
of the rifle being aimed at the correct spot. If this is not the case,
and the whole animal is treated as the target, to be hit anywhere, then
the result will be flight or a charge on the part of the elephant. Should
the latter occur in thick stuff or high grass—12 ft. or 14 ft.—the novice
will have a very unpleasant time indeed. An angry bull elephant is a
magnificent sight, but an extremely difficult animal to deal with, even
for the practised shot. For one thing, he is generally end on and the
head is at a high angle and never still. If the novice comes through the
encounter undamaged he will either leave elephants severely alone for the
rest of his life or he will be extremely careful where he puts his bullet
next time.

[Illustration: THE ANGRY BULL.

_A magnificent sight but extremely difficult to deal with._]

[Illustration: 1.—WHERE THE WINDPIPE ENTERS THE BODY IS THE SPOT TO HIT
WHEN THE ANIMAL IS IN THIS POSITION.]

[Illustration: 2.—ELEPHANT IN THE COUNTRY MOST SUITED TO THE BODY SHOT.

_Even here, on an open grassy plain, if the hunter can get within thirty
or forty yards, the brain shot is to be preferred._]

[Illustration: 3.—WITH ONE EYE SHUT.

_The shaded portion represents the hands holding the rifle._]

[Illustration: 4.—WITH BOTH EYES OPEN.

_The whole of the head is visible through the hands and rifle._]

[Illustration: THE DOTTED LINES SHOW THE POSITION OF THE HEART AND
LUNGS.]

[Illustration: WITH THE HERD IN THE PAIRING SEASON.]

The natural inclination of most men is to fire and fire quickly, straight
at the beast, anywhere. _This must be resisted_ at all costs. If you can
force yourself to wait until you have counted ten _slowly_, the animal is
yours. The mere act of asserting your mentality gives such ascendency to
your powers of judgment and such confidence that you will be surprised to
find yourself coolly waiting for a better chance than the one you were
quite prepared to take a few seconds before. _When_ you are in this state
of mind, try and get to a range of about thirty yards at right angles to
the fore and aft line of the animal. Now see if the fore leg is clearly
visible for the greater part. If it is and is fairly upright you may
use its centre line as your _direction_. A third of the distance from
the brisket to the top of the back is the _elevation_. If struck there
or thereabouts either the top of the heart or the lungs or some of the
arteries will be pierced and the animal cannot live, even when the bullet
used is as small as a ·256. He may run fifteen or twenty yards, subside
into a walk for another forty or fifty yards, stand about for some time
and then subside. This is a pierced artery. He may rush away for thirty
to sixty yards at a great pace and fall in his stride. This is a heart
shot. Or he may rush off spouting bright red blood from his trunk in
great quantities. This is a shot in the lungs.

If you have missed the deadly area and are high, you may have touched
the spinal column. But it is so massive at this spot in a large elephant
that it will rarely be broken, so that even when he comes down he will
soon recover and be up and off. Too far forward you may get the point of
the shoulder and your bullet may have so weakened the bone that when he
starts off it may break. An elephant can neither trot nor gallop, but can
only pace, therefore one broken leg anchors him. It is true that he may
just stagger along for a few yards by substituting his tusks as a support
in place of the broken leg. In a case of this sort you will naturally
dispatch him as quickly as possible.

If your bullet has gone too far back and got into the stomach you may be
in for a lively time, as nothing seems to anger them more than a shot
so placed. If he comes for you meaning business, no instructions would
help you, simply because you wouldn’t have time to think of them. Hit him
hard quickly and as often as you can, about a line between the eyes, or
in the throat when his head is up, and see what happens. Never turn your
back to him. While you can see him you know where he is. And besides, you
cannot run in thick stuff without falling. Always stand still and shoot
whichever animal threatens you most is what I have found to be the best
plan.

Should you come upon a good bull in a position such as is shown in Fig.
1, you may kill him with a shot where the windpipe finally enters the
chest as indicated by the spear. For some reason or other this is not an
easy shot. It may be because the spot is nearly always in deep shadow.
Personally I would wait until he lowered his head and gave me a chance
at his brain. A hunting companion of mine once shot an elephant in the
brain while in a position such as shown in Fig. 1. The bullet had entered
through the top of the palate, showing that he must have been almost
under the animal’s head when he fired. In Fig. 2 we have elephant in
country most suitable for the body shot, that is, open, short grassy
plains. The mature bull on the right is the first choice. Observe his
massive head, short but heavy tusks. He is not old, but his teeth will
weigh well. The second choice is the one on the left which is swinging
his ears. Our friend in the middle which is philandering with the
heavy-looking cow should be spared. Observe how his teeth taper away to
nothing. They would scarcely scale 30 lb. each.

In Fig. 3 I have tried to show what happens when you aim your rifle
_with one eye closed_ at an elephant’s brain. Everything below the head
is obliterated with this form of backsight. This makes it much more
difficult to judge correctly the position of the brain, as the sight cuts
out one or both of the “leading marks,” _i.e._, the eye and the earhole.
The shaded portion represents the hands holding the rifle.

Fig. 4 is meant to show what happens when the same sight is being taken
at the same elephant but _with both eyes open_. Owing to the left eye
seeing the whole image—as its view of it is not obstructed by the
hands—the whole of the elephant’s head appears visible _through the hands
and rifle_. The advantage is obvious. Anyone can do it who will take the
trouble to practise.

Finally, I would like to warn anyone who may be going out for his
elephant for the first time to beware that the native gun-bearer does
not rush him into _firing too soon_. They have not our medical knowledge
which teaches us that the brain, heart and lungs are the best places to
hit. They would hit them anywhere and trust to “medicine” to do the rest.
I have been solemnly assured by native elephant hunters that it is not
the bullet which causes the animal’s death, but the fire from the powder
which enters the hole made by the bullet.

AFRICAN “MEDICINE” OR WITCHCRAFT AND ITS BEARING ON SPORT

The ruling factor in the pagan African’s life is witchcraft, generally
called throughout the continent “medicine.” All his doings are ruled by
it. No venture can be undertaken without it. Should he be going into the
bush on some trivial project he will pick up a stone and deposit it on
what has through years become a huge pile. This is to propitiate some
spirit. But this apparently does not fully ensure the success of the
expedition, for should a certain species of bird call on the wrong side
of the road the whole affair is off and he returns to his village to wait
until another day when the omens are good.

In illness he recognises no natural laws; all is ascribed to medicine
on the part of some enemy. Should his wife fail to produce the yearly
baby, someone is making medicine against him through her. Hunting or
raiding ventures are never launched without weeks of medicine making.
The regular practitioners of this medicine are called “medicine men” or
witch doctors. Their power is enormous and is hardly fully realised even
by the European administrations, although several African penal codes
now contain legislative efforts to curtail the practice of the evil eye
and the black arts. These medicine men have always appeared to me to be
extremely shrewd and cunning men who yet really believed in their powers.
While all goes well their lot is an enviable one. Gifts of food are
showered upon them. I suspect that they secretly eat the fowls and goats
which are brought as sacrifices to propitiate the spirits: at any rate,
these seem to disappear in a mysterious manner. Beer and women are theirs
for the asking as long as all goes well. But, should the medicine man
have a run of ill luck in his practice and be not too firmly established,
he sometimes comes to grief. The most frequent cause of their downfall
appears to occur in the foretelling of rain. Supposing a dry year happens
to come along, as it so frequently does in Africa, everyone to save his
crops resorts to the medicine man. They take to him paltry presents to
begin with. No rain. They give him fowls, sheep and goats. Still no
rain. They discuss it among themselves and conclude that he is not yet
satisfied. More presents are given to him and, maybe, he is asked why he
has not yet made the rain come. Never at a loss, he explains that there
is a strong combination up against him, a very strong one, with which
he is battling day and night. If he only had a bullock to sacrifice to
such and such a spirit he might be able to overcome the opposition. And
so it goes on. Cases are known among rich tribes where the medicine man
has enriched himself with dozens of head of cattle and women. At this
stage should rain appear all is well, and the medicine man is acclaimed
the best of fellows and the greatest of the fraternity. But should its
appearance be so tardy that the crops fail, then that medicine man has
lost his job and has to flee to some far tribe. If he be caught he will,
most probably, be stoned or clubbed to death.

To the elephant hunter the medicine man can sometimes be of great
assistance. I once consulted a medicine man about a plague of
honey-guides. These are African birds about the size of a yellowhammer,
which have the extraordinary habit of locating wild bees’ nests and
leading man to them by fluttering along in front of him, at the same time
keeping up a continuous and penetrating twittering until the particular
tree in which the nest is situated is reached. After the native has
robbed the nest of its honey, by the aid of smoke and fire, he throws on
the ground a portion—sometimes very small—of the grub-filled comb as a
reward for the bird.

My experience occurred just after the big bush fires, when elephant
are so easily tracked, their spoor standing out grey on the blackened
earth. At this season, too, the bees’ nests contain honey and grubs.
Hundreds of natives roam the bush and the honey-guides are at their
busiest. Elephants were numerous, and for sixteen days I tracked them
down and either saw or heard them stampede, warned of our presence by
honey-guides, without the chance of a shot. Towards the end of this
ghastly period my trackers were completely discouraged. They urged me to
consult the medicine man, and I agreed to do so, thinking that at any
rate my doing so would imbue the boys with fresh hope. Arrived at the
village, in due course I visited the great man. His first remark was
that he knew that I was coming to consult him, and that he also knew the
reason of my visit. By this he thought to impress me, I suppose, but, of
course, he had heard all about the honey-guides from my boys, although
they stoutly denied it when I asked them after the interview was over.
Yes, I said, I had come to see him about those infernal birds. And I told
him he could have all the meat of the first elephant I killed if he could
bring about that desirable end to my long hunt. He said he would fix it
up. And so he did, and the very next day, too.

In the evening of the day upon which I had my consultation I was
strolling about the village while my boys got food, prepared for another
trip in the bush. Besides these preparations I noticed a lot of basket
mending and sharpening of knives. One woman I questioned said she was
coming with us on the morrow to get some elephant meat. I spoke to two or
three others. They were all preparing to smoke and dry large quantities
of meat, and they were all going with us. Great optimism prevailed
everywhere. Even I began to feel that the turning in the lane was in
sight. Late that night one of my trackers came to say that the medicine
man wished me to stay in camp in the morning and not to proceed as I had
intended. I asked the reason of this and he simply said that the medicine
man was finding elephant for me and that when the sun was about so high
(9 o’clock) I should hear some news.

[Illustration: ELEPHANT SLINKING AWAY, WARNED OF THE APPROACH OF MAN BY
HONEY-GUIDES.]

[Illustration: MEDICINE INDEED!]

Soon after daybreak natives from the village began to arrive in camp. All
seemed in great spirit, and everyone came with knives, hatchets, baskets
and skin bags of food. They sat about in groups laughing and joking among
themselves. Breakfast finished, the boys got everything ready for the
march. What beat me was that everyone—my people included—seemed certain
they were going somewhere. About 9.30 a native glistening with sweat
arrived. He had seen elephant. How many? Three! Big ones? Yes! Hurriedly
telling the chief to keep his people well in the rear, off we set at a
terrific pace straight through the bush until our guide stopped by a
tree. There he had left his companion watching the elephants. Two or
three hundred yards further on we came to their tracks. Everywhere were
the welcome signs of their having fed as they went. But, strangest thing
of all, not a single honey-guide appeared. Off again as hard as we could
go, the tracks running on ahead clear and distinct, light grey patches
on a burnt ground with the little grey footmarks of the native ahead of
us. In an hour or so we spotted him in a tree, and as we drew near we
caught the grey glint of elephant. Still no honey-guides; blessings on
the medicine man! Wind right, bush fairly open, it only remained to see
if they were warrantable. That they were large bulls we already knew from
their tracks. Leaving the boys, I was soon close behind the big sterns
as they wandered gently along. In a few seconds I had seen their ivory
sufficiently to know that one was really good and the other two quite
shootable beasts. Now for the brain shot. Of all thrills in the world
give me the standing within 20 yds. of good elephant, waiting for a head
to turn to send a tiny nickel bullet straight to the brain. From toenail
to top of back they were all a good 11 ft. Stepping a few yards to the
left and keeping parallel with them I saw that the way to bag the lot
was to shoot the leader first, although he was not the biggest. Letting
pass one or two chances at the middle and rearmost beasts, I finally got
a bullet straight into the leader’s brain. The middle one turned towards
the shot and the nearest turned away from it, so that they both presented
chances at their brains: the former an easy broadside standing, the
latter a behind the ear shot and running. So hard did this one come down
on his tusks that one of them was loose in its socket and could be drawn
straight out. Almost immediately one could hear a kind of rush coming
through the bush. The chief and his people were arriving. There seemed to
be hundreds of them. And the noise and rejoicings! I put guards on the
medicine man’s beast. From first to last no honey-guide had appeared.
The reader must judge for himself whether there was any magic in the
affair or not. What I think happened was this: knowing that the medicine
man was taking the affair in hand and that he had promised elephant, the
natives believed that elephant would be killed. Believing that, they were
willing to look industriously for them in the bush. Great numbers of them
scattered through the bush had the effect of splitting up and scattering
the honey-guides, besides increasing the chances of finding elephant. The
fact that we did not hear a single bird must have been mere chance, I
think. But you could not convince an African of that. Natural causes and
their effects have not a place in his mind. I remember once an elephant
I had hit in the heart shook his head violently in his death throes.
I was astounded to see one of his tusks fly out and land twelve paces
away. The boys were awe-stricken when they saw what had happened. After
ten minutes’ silence they started whispering to each other and then my
gun-bearer came to speak to me. He solemnly warned me with emotion in his
voice never to go near another elephant. If I did it would certainly kill
me after what had occurred. It was quite useless my pointing out that the
discarded tusk was badly diseased, and that it would have probably fallen
out in a short time anyhow. No! No! Bwana, it is medicine! said they.

[Illustration: HE SHOOK HIS HEAD SO VIOLENTLY IN THE DEATH THROES THAT A
TUSK FLEW OUT AND LANDED TWELVE PACES AWAY.]

[Illustration: A M’BONI VILLAGE.

_Perhaps twenty grass shelters are dotted here and there under the
trees._]

Some few years ago I was hunting in the Wa Boni country in British East
Africa. The Wa Boni form an offshoot of the Sanya tribe and are purely
hunters, having no fixed abode and never undertaking cultivation of
any kind. They will not even own stock of any sort, holding that such
ownership leads to trouble in the form of—in the old days—raids, and now
taxation. Living entirely on the products of the chase, honey, bush
fruits and vegetables, they are perhaps the most independent people
in the world. They are under no necessity to combine for purposes of
defence, having nothing to defend. Owning no plantations, they are
independent of droughts. The limitless bush provides everything they
want. Skins for wearing apparel, meat for eating, fibres of great
strength for making string and ropes for snares, sinew for bowstrings,
strong and tough wood for bows, clay for pottery, grass for shelter,
water-tubers for drinking when water is scarce, fruit foods of all
sorts; and all these for the gathering. No wonder they are reluctant to
give up their roving life. I was living in one of the M’Boni villages,
if village it could be called. It consisted of, perhaps, twenty grass
shelters dotted here and there under the trees. It was the season when
honey is plentiful, and there was a great deal of drinking of honey mead
going on. This is simply made by mixing honey with water and supplying
a ferment to it. There are several ferments in the bush, but on this
particular occasion the seeds of the wild tree-calabash were being used.
On the third day after brewing the mead is very intoxicating. A native
will drink great quantities before getting really drunk, but when he does
reach that stage he appears to remain so for many hours. I was once among
a very wild and treacherous tribe where drunkenness was very prevalent.
A nude gentleman about 6 ft. 5 ins. in height strolled into camp one
day accompanied by his daughter. In his hand he carried two beautifully
polished thrusting spears. The bartering of variously coloured beads,
brass and iron wire, etc., for native flour was going on in camp.
Watching this, our friend suddenly stooped down, snatched a handful of
beads and made off with them in a leisurely manner. Immediately there was
an uproar from my people, and a dozen boys gave chase to try to recover
the stolen goods. At the same time the affair was reported to me in my
tent. On emerging, I saw the tall black savage stalking across the open
ground with a howling mob of my porters round him. Without turning to the
right or left and without hurry he kept his two 10 ft. spears darting in
all directions, and none could close with him. Something had to be done.
At first I thought of doing something silly with a rifle, and then I had
a brain-wave. I shouted to the boys to stone him. They jumped to the
idea, and in three seconds that scoffing barbarian had his tail down and
was running for dear life, amid all roars of laughter from both sides.
Unluckily for him a rock weighing several pounds caught him on the back
of the neck and over he went. Like a pack of terriers, my lads were on
him, and presently he was borne back in triumph to camp. His strength was
so prodigious and his naked body so covered in sheep’s fat that it took a
dozen men to hold him. A public thrashing was now administered, in order
to show the tribe that that kind of game would not do. But being quite
drunk the only effect of the thrashing was to make the victim sing and
laugh. This rather spoilt the effect of the whole thing, so I gave orders
to tie him up until he was sober. Thus he passed the night, singing the
whole time. Nothing could be done to silence him, but the camp guards
kept pouring buckets of cold water over him to try to sober him up. In
spite of this he was still supremely drunk next morning when we let him
go.

[Illustration: M’SANYA BOW AND POISONED ARROW.

The poisoned part is carried, separately, from the shank, carefully
wrapped in buckskin.]

[Illustration: A PATRIARCH.]

[Illustration: “A SMALL NATIVE BOY WAS IN THE ACT OF PINKING AN ENORMOUS
ELEPHANT.”]

One morning early, news came in to the Boni village that the tracks
of two large bull elephants were to be seen not far off. Arrived at
the tracks, it was evident that they had passed along there during the
night. Soon the welcome signs of their having fed as they went were
seen. Promising as these signs were, it was not until midday that we
began to come up with them. Presently the tracks led us into a patch
of dense evergreen forest, and here we expected to find them. Leaving
my companions near the edge of the forest, I went in on the tracks as
silently yet as quickly as possible. I went quickly because the wind
was tricky, and it is always better on these occasions to get to close
quarters as soon as you can, thereby lessening the chances of your game
winding you. I was soon within hearing distance of the elephants. As I
lifted my leg cautiously over some tangle of bush I could hear a deep
sigh or an internal rumble from the dozing animals. Turning a bush the
following scene disclosed itself. A small native boy was in the act of
pinking an enormous elephant with his tiny reed arrow. Aiming for the
big intestine of the father beast he let drive before I could stop him.
In an instant all was uproar. The two elephants stampeded madly through
the forest, crashing everything down in front of them, disappearing in
a cloud of pollen, dust and leaves. The formerly still and sleepy bush
seemed alive with crying monkeys and calling birds as the little boy
proceeded coolly to pick up his guinea-fowl arrow where it had fallen
after failing to pierce the elephant’s hide.

“Hullo, you little devil,” I said.

A half glance round and he was gone. The little sportsman had been simply
amusing himself. Of course, the grown men of the Wa Boni kill elephants,
but for this they use extraordinarily heavy arrows which require
immensely powerful bows to propel them. Some of these bows require a
pull of 100 lb. to get them out to the end of the wooden arrow where the
poisoned part fits into a socket. There is some peculiar knack in this,
as no other native I have seen—and certainly no white man—can get them
more than half way, and yet these natives are very small and slight.

KARAMOJO

I.—INTO THE UNKNOWN

My earliest recollection of myself is that of a child whose sole ambition
in life was to hunt. At a very early age I conceived the idea of hunting
the American bison. With this end in view I gathered together a few
oddments, such as the barrels of a double-barrelled pistol, a clasp
knife, a few bits of string and all the money—chiefly pennies—that I
could lay hands on. This bison-hunting expedition was prematurely cut
short at the Port of Glasgow by the critical state of its finances,
for after buying a pork pie for twopence its treasury was found to be
almost empty. This was a sad blow, and it was while thinking it over on
a doorstep that a kindly policeman instituted proceedings which resulted
in the lost and crestfallen child being restored to his family. But the
growth of years and the acquirement of the art of reading—by which I
discovered that bison no longer existed in America—my ambition became
fixed on becoming an elephant hunter. The reading of Gordon Cumming’s
books on Africa finished the business. An elephant hunter I determined to
become; this idea never left me. Finally, after all kinds of vicissitudes
I arrived in Africa and heard of a wonderful new and unexplored country
called Karamojo. Elephants were reported by the black traders to be very
numerous with enormous tusks, and there was no sort of administration
to hamper the hunter with restrictions and game laws. Above all there
appeared to be no other person hunting elephants in this Eldorado except
the natives, and they had no firearms. My informants told me that the
starting point for all safaris (caravans) was Mumias, a native town and
Government Post at the foot of Mount Elgon, which formed the last outpost
of civilisation for a traveller proceeding North.

At the time of which I write Mumias was a town of some importance. It
was the base for all trading expeditions to the Lake Rudolph basin,
Turkana, Dabossa and the Southern Abyssinia country. In the first few
years of the trade in ivory this commodity was obtained for the most
trifling sums; for instance, a tusk worth £50 or £60 could be bought for
two or three shillings’ worth of beads or iron wire. As time went on and
more traders flocked to Karamojo to share in the huge profits of the
ivory trade, competition became keener. Prices rose higher and higher.
Where once beads and iron wire sufficed to buy a tusk, now a cow must
be paid. Traders were obliged to go further and further afield to find
new territory until they came in violent contact with raiding parties of
Abyssinians away in the far North.

When most of the dead ivory in the country had been traded off the only
remaining source was the yearly crop of tusks from the elephants snared
and killed by the native Karamojans. For these comparatively few tusks
competition became so keen and prices so high that there was no longer
any profit when as much as eight or ten cows had to be paid for a large
tusk, and the cows bought down at the base for spot cash and at prices of
from £2 to £5 each. Hence arose the idea in the brains of two or three
of the bolder spirits among the traders to take by force that which they
could no longer afford to buy. Instead of traders they became raiders.
In order to ensure success to a raid an alliance would be made with some
tribe which was already about equal in strength to its neighbours through
centuries of intertribal warfare. The addition of three or four hundred
guns to the tribe’s five or six thousand spear-men rendered the result
of this raid by the combined forces almost beyond doubt, and moreover,
conferred upon the raiders such complete domination of the situation
that they were able to search out and capture the young girls, the
acquisition of which is the great aim and object of all activity in the
Mohammedan mind.

Complete and magnificent success attending the first raiding venture
the whole country changed magically. The hitherto more or less peaceful
looking trading camps gave place to huge armed Bomas surrounded by high
thorn fences. Everyone—trader or native—went about armed to the teeth.
Footsore or sick travellers from caravans disappeared entirely, or their
remains were found by the roadside. Native women and cattle were heavily
guarded, for no man trusted a stranger.

Into this country of suspicion and brooding violence I was about to
venture. As soon as my intention became known among the traders at Mumias
I encountered on every side a firm barrage of lies and dissuasion of
every sort. The buying of pack donkeys was made impossible. Guides were
unobtainable. Information about the country north of Turkwell was either
distorted and false or entirely withheld. I found that no Mohammedan
boy would engage with me. The reason for all this apparently malicious
obstruction on the part of the trading community was not at the time
known to me, but it soon became clear when I had crossed the Turkwell and
found that the peaceful, polite and prosperous looking trader of Mumias
became the merciless and bloody Dacoit as soon as he had crossed that
river and was no longer under European control. Numbering among them, as
they did, some pretty notorious ex-slavers, they knew how unexpectedly
far the arm of the law could sometimes reach and they no doubt foresaw
that nothing but trouble would arise from my visit to the territory they
had come to look upon as theirs by right of discovery. It surprises me
now, when I think of how much they had at stake, that they resorted to
no more stringent methods than those related above to prevent my entry
into Karamojo. As it was I soon got together some bullocks and some pagan
boys. The bullocks I half trained to carry packs and the Government Agent
very kindly arranged that I should have eight Snider rifles with which to
defend myself, and to instil confidence among my Baganda and Wanyamwere
and Kavirondo boys. The Sniders looked well and no one knew except myself
that the ammunition for them was all bad. And then I had my personal
rifles, at that time a ·303 Lee-Enfield, a ·275 Rigby-Mauser and a double
·450-·400, besides a Mauser pistol which could be used as a carbine and
which soon acquired the name of “Bom-Bom” and a reputation for itself
equal to a hundred ordinary rifles.

While searching through some boxes of loose ammunition in the store at
Mumias in the hope of finding at least a few good rounds for my Snider
carbines I picked up a Martini-Henry cartridge, and while looking at its
base it suddenly struck me that possibly it could be fired from a Snider.
And so it proved to be. The base being ·577 calibre fitted perfectly, but
the bullet, being only ·450 bore, was scarcely what you might call a good
fit for a ·577 barrel, and there was, of course, no accuracy to the thing
at all. But it went off with a bang and the propensity of its bullet
to fly off at the most disconcerting angles after rattling through the
barrel from side to side seemed just to suit the style of aiming adopted
by my eight askaris (soldiers), for on several occasions jackal and hyena
were laid low while prowling round the camp at night.

Bright and early next morning my little safari began to get itself ready
for the voyage into the Unknown. The loads were got out and lined up.
First of all an askari, with a Snider rifle very proud in a hide belt
with five Martini cartridges gleaming yellow in it. He had carefully
polished them with sand for the occasion. Likewise the barrel of the old
Snider showed signs of much rubbing, and a piece of fat from the tail of
a sheep dangled by a short string from the hammer. Then my chop-boxes,
and camp gear borne by porters, followed by my boy Suede and Suliemani,
the cook, of cannibal parentage be it whispered. As usual, all the small
loads seemed to be jauntily and lightly perched on the massive heads and
necks of the biggest porters, while the big loads looked doubly big in
comparison to the spindly shanks which appeared below them. One enormous
porter in particular drew my attention. He was capering about in the most
fantastic manner with a large box on his head. From the rattle which
proceeded from the box I perceived that this was the cook’s mate, and
as I possessed only a few aluminium cooking pots, his was perhaps the
lightest load of any, and I vowed that he should have a good heavy tusk
to carry as soon as possible. This I was enabled to do soon after passing
the Turkwell, and this splendid head-carrier took entire charge of a tusk
weighing 123 lb., carrying it with pride for several hundred weary miles
on a daily ration of 1 lb. of mtama grain and unlimited buck meat.

Usually when a safari started from Mumias for the “Barra”—as the bush
or wilderness is called—the townsfolk would turn out with drums and
horns to give them a send off, but in our case we departed without any
demonstration of that sort. We passed through almost deserted and silent
streets, and we struck out for the Turkwell, the trail skirting the base
of Elgon for six days, as we travelled slowly, being heavily laden. I
was able to find and shoot enough haartebeeste and oribi to keep the
safari in meat, and after two or three days’ march the boys became better
and better and the bullocks more and more docile. I purposely made the
marches more easy at first in order to avoid sore backs, and it was easy
to do so, as there were good streams of water crossing our path every few
miles.

On the seventh day we reached the Turkwell River. After descending
several hundred feet from the high plateau we crossed by the ford and
pitched camp on the opposite or north bank. The Turkwell has its sources
in the crater of Elgon and its slopes. Its waters reach the dry, hot
plains of Karamojo after a drop of about 9,000 ft. in perhaps twenty or
thirty miles. In the dry season—when it is fordable almost anywhere—it
totally disappears into its sandy river bed while still some days’ march
from its goal, Lake Rudolph. It is a queer and romantic river, for it
starts in lava 14,000 ft. above sea-level, traverses bitterly cold and
often snow-covered heath land, plunges down through the dense bamboo
belt, then through dark and dripping evergreen forest to emerge on the
sandy plains of Karamojo. From this point to Rudolph its banks are
clothed with a more or less dense belt of immense flat-topped thorn trees
interspersed with thickets of every kind of thorny bush, the haunt of
rhino, buffalo and elephant. Throughout its entire course its waters were
drunk, at the time of which I write, by immense herds of elephant during
the dry season. Even after disappearing underground, elephant and natives
easily procured water by simply making holes in the soft clean sands of
its river bed.

At that time the Turkwell formed the northern boundary of European rule.
North of it was no rule but disrule. The nearest cultivated settlement
of Karamojo natives was at Mani-Mani, some 150 miles to the north, but
scattered about in the bush were many temporary settlements of poor
Karamojans who got their living by hunting and snaring everything from
elephant downwards.

Dreadful tales of murders of peaceful travellers had been related by
Swahilis, and we were careful not to let anyone straggle far from the
main body. At night my eight askaris mounted guard and kept a huge
fire going. Their vigilance was extraordinary, and their keenness and
cheerfulness, fidelity and courage of a very high order, showing them
to be born soldiers. Their shooting was simply atrocious, in spite of
practice with a ·22 I had, but notwithstanding their inability to align
and aim a rifle properly, they used sometimes to bring off the most
brilliant shots under the most impossible conditions of shooting light,
thereby showing a great natural aptitude to point a gun and time the shot.

While we were drying out the gear that had got wet while crossing the
Turkwell two natives strolled into the camp. These were the first
Karamojans we had seen, and I was very much interested in them. They
showed great independence of bearing as they stood about leaning on their
long thrusting spears. I had some difficulty in getting into conversation
with them, although I had an excellent interpreter. They seemed very
taciturn and suspicious. However, I got it explained to them that I had
come for one purpose only, _i.e._, to hunt elephant. They admitted that
there were plenty of elephant, but when I asked them to show me where to
look for them they merely asked me how I proposed to kill them when I
did see them. On showing them my rifle they laughed, and said they had
seen Swahili traders using those things for elephants and, although they
killed men well enough, they were useless against elephant. My answer
to this was that I had procured some wonderful medicine which enabled
me to kill the largest-sized elephant with one shot, and that if they
would like to see this medicine working all they had to do was to show
me where the elephant were and that I would do the rest and they should
have as much meat as they wanted. They retorted that if my medicine was
truly sufficiently powerful to kill an elephant instantaneously, then
they could not believe that it would fail to show me their whereabouts
also. This grave fault in my medicine had to be explained, and I could
only say that I grieved heartily over the deficiency, which I attributed
to the jealousy of a medicine man who was a rival of him who had given
me the killing medicine. This left them not altogether satisfied, but a
better impression was produced when I presented them with a quarter of
buck meat, while telling them that I killed that kind of meat every day.
They went off without holding out any hope of showing me elephant, and
I thought that I had seen the last of them. I sat until late in my long
chair by the camp fire under a brilliant sky and wonderful moon listening
to the talk of my Nzamwezi boys and wondering how we were going to fare
in the real wild land ahead of us.

An early start was made next morning and we had covered perhaps six or
seven miles when the two natives, visitors to our camp of yesterday, came
stalking along appearing to cover the ground at a great rate without
showing any hurry or fuss. I stopped and called the interpreter and
soon learned that four large elephants had that morning passed close to
their camp in the bush and that when they left to call me the elephants
could still be heard in the vicinity. At once I was for going, but
the interpreter and the headman both cautioned me against treachery,
declaring that it was only a blind to separate us preparatory to a
general massacre. This view I thought a bit far fetched, but I ordered
the safari to get under weigh and to travel well together until they
reached the first water, where they were immediately to cut sufficient
thorn trees to completely encircle themselves in camp, to keep a good
look-out and to await my coming.

Taking my small boy and the gigantic cook’s mate—whose feather-weight
load I had transferred to the cook’s head—I hastily put together a few
necessities and hurried off with the two Karamojans at a great pace. We
soon struck off from the main trail and headed for the Turkwell Valley.
Straight through the open thorn bush we went, the elephant hide sandals
of my native guides crunching innumerable darning-needle-sized thorns
underfoot, the following porters with their light loads at a jog trot,
myself at a fast but laboured walk, while the guides simply soaked along
with consummate ease.

Supremely undemonstrative as natives usually are, there was yet
observable a kind of suppressed excitement about their bearing, and I
noticed that whenever a certain bird called on the right hand the leader
would make a low remark to his companions with an indescribably satisfied
kind of gesture, whereas the same calling on the left hand drew no notice
from them beyond a certain increased forward resolution and a stiff
ignoring of it.

The significance of these signs were lost on me at that time, but I was
to come to learn them well in my later dealings with these tribes. They
were omens and indicated success or failure to our hunting.

On the whole they were apparently favourable. At any rate, the pace
never slackened, and I was beginning to wish for a slowing down. As we
drew nearer the Turkwell Valley signs of elephant became more and more
numerous. Huge paths worn perfectly smooth and with their edges cut as
clear as those of garden walks by the huge pads of the ponderous animals
began to run together, forming more deeply worn ones converging towards
the drinking places on the river. Occasionally the beautiful lesser
koodoo stood watching us or loped away, flirting its white fluffed tail.
Once we passed a rhino standing motionless with snout ever directed
towards us. A small detour round him as we did not wish to get mixed up
with his sort and on again. Halt! The little line bunches up against the
motionless natives. A distant rumble resembling somewhat a cart crossing
a wooden bridge, and after a few seconds of silence the crash of a broken
tree.

Elephant! _Atome!_ (in Karamojo). Word the first to be learned and the
last to be forgotten of any native language. A kind of excitement seizes
us all; me most of all, the Karamojans least. Now the boys are told to
stay behind and to make no noise. They are at liberty to climb trees
if they like. I look to my ·303, but, of course, it had been ready for
hours. Noting that the wind—what there was of it—was favourable, the
natives and I go forward, and soon we come upon the broken trees, mimosa
and white thorn, the chewed fibrous balls of sansivera, the moist patches
with froth still on them, the still steaming and unoxidised spoor, and
the huge tracks with the heavily imprinted clear-cut corrugations of
a very recently passing bunch of bull elephants. In numbers they were
five as nearly as I could estimate. Tracking them was child’s play,
and I expected to see them at any moment. It was, however, much longer
than I anticipated before we sighted their dull grey hides. For they
were travelling as well as feeding. It is remarkable how much territory
elephant cover when thus feeding along. At first sight they seem to be so
leisurely, and it is not until one begins to keep in touch with them that
their speed is realised. Although they appear to take so few steps, each
step of their lowest gait is about 6 ft. Then, again, in this feeding
along there is _always_ at least one of the party moving forward at
about 3½ miles per hour, although the other members may be stopping and
feeding, then catching up again by extending the stride to 7 ft. or more.

As soon as they were in sight I got in front of the Karamojans and ran
in to about 20 yds. from the stern of the rearmost animal. Intense
excitement now had me with its usual signs, hard breathing through the
mouth, dry palate and an intense longing to shoot.

As I arrived at this close proximity I vividly remember glancing along
the grey bulging sides of the three rearmost animals, who all happened to
be in motion at the same time in single file, and remarking a tusk of an
incredible length and size sweeping out from the grey wall. I instantly
determined to try for this one first. With extraordinary precautions
against making a noise, and stoopings and contortions of the body, all
of which after-experience taught me were totally unnecessary, I got away
off at right-angles to the file of elephants and could now grasp the fact
that they were all very large and carried superb ivory.

I was now almost light-headed with excitement, and several times on
the very verge of firing a stupid and hasty shot from my jumping and
flickering rifle. So shaky was it when I once or twice put it to my
shoulder that even in my then state of mind I saw that no good could come
of it. After a minute or two, during which I was returning to a more
normal state, the animal with the largest tusks left the line slightly,
and slowly settled into a halt beside a mimosa bush. I got a clear
glimpse at his broadside at what looked about 20 yds., but was really
40 yds., and I fired for his heart. With a flinch, a squirm and a roar
he was soon in rapid motion straight away, with his companions in full
flight ahead of him. I was rather surprised at this headlong flight after
one shot as I had expected the elephant here to be more unsophisticated,
but hastily concluding that the Swahili traders must have been pumping
lead into them more often than one imagined, I legged it for the cloud of
dust where the fleeting animals had disappeared. Being clad in running
shorts and light shoes, it was not long before I almost ran slap up
against a huge and motionless grey stern. Recoiling very rapidly indeed
from this awe-inspiring sight, I saw on one side of it an enormous head
and tusk which appeared to stick out at right-angles. So drooping were
the trunk and ears and so motionless the whole appearance of what had
been a few seconds ago the very essence of power and activity that it was
borne straight to even my inexperienced mind that here was death. And so
it was, for as I stared goggle-eyed the mighty body began to sway from
side to side more and more, until with a crash it fell sideways, bearing
earthwards with it a fair sized tree. Straight past it I saw another
elephant, turned almost broadside, at about 100 yds. distance, evidently
listening and obviously on the point of flight. Running a little forward
so as to get a clear sight of the second beast, I sat quickly down and
fired carefully at the shoulder, when much the same performance took
place as in the first case, except that No. 2 came down to a slow walk
after a burst of speed instead of to a standstill as with No. 1.

Ranging rapidly alongside I quickly put him out of misery and tore after
the others which were, of course, by this time, thoroughly alarmed and in
full flight. After a mile or two of fast going I found myself pretty well
done, so I sat down and rolled myself a cigarette of the strong black
shag so commonly smoked by the Swahilis. Presently my native guides came
with every appearance of satisfaction on their now beaming faces.

After a few minutes’ rest we retracked the elephant back to where our two
lay dead. The tusks of the first one we examined were not long but very
thick, and the other had on one side a tusk broken some 2 ft. outside the
lip, while on the other was the magnificent tusk which had filled me with
wonder earlier on. It was almost faultless and beautifully curved. What a
shame that its companion was broken!

As we were cutting the tail off, which is always done to show anyone
finding the carcase that it has been killed and claimed, my good fellows
came up with the gear and the interpreter. Everyone, including myself,
was in high good humour, and when the Karamojans said that their village
was not far off we were more pleased than ever, especially as the sun was
sinking rapidly. After what appeared to the natives no doubt as a short
distance, but what seemed to my sore feet and tired legs a very long one,
we saw the welcome fires of a camp and were soon sitting by one while a
group of naked savages stood looking silently at the white man and his
preparations for eating and sleeping. These were simple enough. A kettle
was soon on the fire for tea, while some strips of sun-cured haartebeeste
biltong writhed and sizzled on the embers. Meanwhile my boys got the bed
ready by first of all cutting the grass and smoothing down the knobs of
the ground while another spread grass on it to form a mattress. Over this
the canvas sheet and blankets and with a bag of cartridges wrapped in a
coat for a pillow the bed was complete. Then two forked sticks stuck in
the ground close alongside the bed to hold the rifle and all was ready
for the night.

II.—IVORY AND THE RAIDERS

After a hearty supper of toasted biltong and native flour porridge,
washed down with tea, I cleaned my rifle, loaded it and lay down utterly
tired out and soon dropped off to the music of hyenas’ howling. As soon
as ever it was light enough to see, we left for the dead elephant, and
the way did not seem half so long in the fresh morning air as it had
appeared the evening before. We quickly arrived, followed by all the
villagers, men, women and children, every one in high spirits at the
sight of the mountains of meat. In this country the meat of elephants is
esteemed more highly than that of any other animal, as it contains much
more fat. The Karamojan elephants are distinguished for their bodily
size, the quality and size of their ivory and for the quantity of fat on
them.

I was anxious to get the tusks out as rapidly as possible in order
to rejoin my caravan, so I divided the Karamojans into two gangs and
explained to them that no one was to touch the carcases until the tusks
were out, but that then they could have all the meat. They set to with a
will to get all the skin and flesh off the head. It is necessary to do
this so as to expose the huge bone sockets containing the ends of the
tusks. About a third of their length is so embedded, and a very long,
tedious and hard job it is to get all the skin and gristle cut away.
Nothing blunts a knife more quickly than elephant hide, because of the
sand and grit in its loose texture.

When the skull is clean on one side the neck should be cut. This alone
is a herculean task. The vertebra severed, the head is turned over by
eight or ten men, and the other side similarly cleaned. When both sockets
are ready an axe is used to chop them away chip by chip until the tusk
is free. This chopping should always be done by an expert, as otherwise
large chips off the tusk itself are liable to be taken by the axe.

This chopping out of ivory is seldom resorted to by natives, requiring as
it does so much hard work. They prefer to leave the sun and putrefaction
to do the work for them. On the third day after the death the upper
tusk can usually be drawn without difficulty from the socket and the
underneath one on the following day.

On this particular occasion no one was at all adept at chopping out,
and it was hours before the tusks were freed. Later on my Wanzamwezi
boys became very expert indeed at this job, and twelve of them, whose
particular job it became, could handle as many as ten bull elephants in a
day provided they were not too distant one from the other and that they
had plenty of native assistance.

While the chopping out was going on I had leisure to watch the natives,
and what struck me first was the remarkable difference between the men
and the women. The former were tall, some of them quite 6 ft. 4 ins.,
slim and well made, while the latter were distinctly short, broad,
beefy and squat. The married ones wore aprons of dressed buckskin tied
round the waist by the legs of the skin and ornamented with coloured
beads sewn on with sinew thread. The unmarried girls wore no skins at
all and had merely a short fringe of black thread attached to a string
round the waist and falling down in front. As regards hair, all the
women wore it plaited and falling down all round the head and giving
somewhat the appearance of “bobbed” hair. Some of the men wore the most
extraordinary-looking periwigs made up of their own and also their
ancestors’ hair mixed with clay so as to form a kind of covering for the
top of the head and falling down the back of the neck. In this pad of
human felt were set neat little woven sockets in such a way as to hold
upright an ostrich feather in each.

The people with whom we are dealing at the moment were poor and therefore
hunters. Africans differ from us entirely on the question of hunting;
whereas among us it is the well-off who hunt, among them it is the poor.
Having nothing but a few goats and sheep, these hunters inhabit the bush,
shifting their village from site to site according to the movements of
the game.

Their system of taking game is the snare; their only weapon a spear. The
art of snaring has been brought to a unique development by these people,
for they have snares varying in size for all animals from elephant down
to dik-dik.

The snare for elephant is a great hawser, 4½ ins. in diameter, of twisted
antelope or giraffe hides. One may find in the same rope haartebeeste
hide, eland, zebra, rhinoceros, buffalo and giraffe hide. If made of
haartebeeste alone no less than eleven or twelve skins are required. The
skins are scraped and pounded with huge wooden mallets for weeks by the
women before being twisted or “laid” into the rope which is to form the
snare. The running nooses at both ends are beautifully made. Besides the
snare there is a thing like a cart wheel without any hub and with scores
of thin spokes meeting in the centre where their points are sharp. The
snare is laid in the following manner:

A well frequented elephant path is chosen and somewhere near the spot
decided upon for the snare a large tree is cut. Judgment in the choosing
of this must be exercised as if it is too heavy the snare will break, and
if too light the snared elephant will travel too far. A tree trunk which
ten or twelve men can just stagger along with seems to be the thing.
This log is then brought to the scene of action and at its smaller end a
deep groove is cut all round to take the noose at one end of the rope.
After this noose has been fitted and pulled and hammered tight—no easy
matter—the log is laid at right angles to the path with the smaller end
pointing towards it. A hole a good bit larger than an elephant’s foot is
then dug in the path itself to a depth of two feet or so. Over this hole
is fitted the cart wheel. Round the rim the large noose of the snare is
laid and the whole covered carefully over with earth to resemble the path
again. The snare is now laid, and if all goes well some solitary old bull
comes wandering along at night, places his foot on the earth borne by
the sharp spokes of the hubless wheel, goes through as the spokes open
downwards, lifts his foot and with it the wheel bearing the noose well
up the ankle, strides forward and tightens the noose. The more he pulls
the tighter draws the noose until the log at the other end of the snare
begins to move. Now alarmed and presently angry, he soon gets rid of the
cart wheel, but as its work is already done, that does not matter. The
dragging log is now securely attached to the elephant’s leg, and it is
seldom that he gets rid of it unless it should jamb in rocks or trees.
Soon he becomes thoroughly alarmed and sets off at a great pace, the log
ploughing along behind him. Should a strong, vigorous young bull become
attached to a rather light log, he may go twenty or thirty miles.

As soon as it becomes known to the natives that an elephant has been
caught, everyone within miles immediately seizes all his spears and
rushes to the spot where the snare had been set and from there eagerly
takes up the trail of the log. When they come up with the somewhat
exhausted animal they spear it to death. Then every scrap of meat is
shared among the village which owns the snare, the tusks becoming
the property of the man who made and laid the snare. The spearing of
an elephant, with its enormously thick hide, is no easy matter, as
the animal can still make short active rushes. Casualties are not
infrequent, and should anyone be caught he is, as a rule, almost certain
to be killed.

[Illustration: POOR KARAMOJANS, SHOWING PERIWIGS.]

[Illustration: CARRYING THE IVORY.]

While the tusk-getting operations were going on I took the opportunity
to examine the respective positions of the heart, lungs and brain in
relation to the conspicuous points of the animal’s exterior, such as the
eye, the ear, the line of the fore leg and the point of the shoulder. In
order to fix the position of the heart and lungs I made some boys get
the stomach and intestines out. This was a terrific job, but we were
ably assisted by the powerful native women. The “innards” of elephant
are very greatly prized by all natives who eat elephant. The contents
of the stomach must have weighed a ton, I should think, and I saw the
intestine or sack which contains the clear pure water so readily drunk by
the hunter during the dry season when he finds himself far from water.
It is from this internal tank that the elephant can produce water for
the purpose of treating himself to a shower bath when there is no water.
He brings it up into his throat, whence it is sucked into the trunk and
then delivered where required. The first time I saw an elephant doing
this I thought he must be standing by a pool of water from which he was
drawing it. I was many weary miles from water and the sun was scorching,
and I and the boy with me were very thirsty, so we hastened towards the
elephant, which moved on slowly through the bush. Very soon we arrived at
the spot where we had seen him at his shower bath, but no spring or pool
could I find. I asked the Karamojan about it and he then told me, with a
smile at my ignorance, that the nearest water was at our camp and that
all elephant carried water inside them and need not replenish their stock
for three days. Coming up with the elephant I killed him and got Pyjalé
(my Karamojan tracker) to pierce its water tank, and sure enough water,
perfectly clear barring a little blood, gushed out, which we both drank
greedily. It was warm certainly, but quite tasteless and odourless and
very wholesome and grateful.

When everything had been got out, except the lungs and heart, I had
spears thrust through from the direction from which a bullet would come.
I meanwhile peered into the huge cavity formed by the massive ribs and
when a spear pierced a lung or the heart, I immediately examined its
situation and tried to commit it to my memory. One thing I noticed was
that with the animal lying on its side the heart did not occupy the
cavity which was obviously intended for it when upright, therefore an
allowance had to be made. Another thing I was impressed with was the
size of the arteries about the heart. It extended the killing area a
considerable distance above the heart, and I have often since killed
elephant with a shot above the heart. About the situation of the brain
I also learned a lot. I thought I had its position fixed to a nicety in
my mind, but I subsequently found that all I had learned was one of the
many positions the brain does not occupy. And it was by a series of these
misplacings that I finally came to know where the brain really does lie.
It is a small object contained in a very large head. It lies so far from
the exterior that a very slight and almost unnoticeable change of angle
causes the bullet to miss it completely.

[Illustration: ELEPHANT SNARE NET SET, BUT NOT YET COVERED.]

[Illustration: KARAMOJAN WARRIOR.

_After a warrior has killed anyone he is entitled to wear a white ostrich
feather dipped blood-red, and tattoo himself on the right side if the
slain was a man and the left if a woman._]

From this my first dealing with Karamojans it began to be borne in on me
that they were not so bad as the Swahili traders had tried to make out.
And my subsequent dealings with them confirmed this impression. As far
as I was concerned I had hardly any trouble with them. But at the same
time some terrible massacres took place while I was in their country.
These affairs were the most completely successful operations I have ever
heard of from the native point of view. On three occasions massacres of
well armed trading caravans were attempted, and on two there were no
survivors among the traders and no casualties among the natives, while
on the third there was one trader survivor who escaped. I will describe
later on the methods employed by the natives so successfully, for it was
not until my Karamojan friend Pyjalé came to me that I heard the inside
of the thing. For the next few days nothing of note happened except that
we passed the remains of two black men by the roadside—stragglers from
some trading caravan probably, judging by the bits of cloth lying about.
Now here was a state of things requiring explanation. We were now close
to Mani-Mani, the up-country base for all trading caravans. Mani-Mani
was also a populous centre for Karamojans, with whom the traders were
perforce at peace. And yet here on the roads were two murdered men
obviously belonging to the traders. On my arrival at Mani-Mani I found
the explanation. It was thus: Among Karamojans, as among Masai, Somals
and other tribes, a young man is of no consideration, has no standing
with the girls, until he has killed someone. It does not matter how he
kills him, he may be asleep or unarmed. When he has “done someone in,”
either man or woman, other than Karamojan of course, he has the right to
tattoo the right side of his body for a man victim and the left side for
a woman. Moreover, at the dances he mounts a very tall ostrich feather
dipped blood red, and then he is looked upon as a man. He may and does
now demand anything from the unmarried girls. He may flog them should
they resist. And this atrocious incitement to murder is the cause of
death to any leg-weary straggler from caravans. That the Swahili leaders
never made these way side murders a _casus belli_ shows them to be what
they are, callous snivellers. That they could have put down this custom
was shown when some of my boys lost their way among the villages. As soon
as it was reported to me I at once got together five of my askaris and
raced off among the herds of Karamojan cattle. We rounded up a huge mob
and held them more or less in one place. Spearmen rushed about, women
holloaed, and shields were produced from every hut. I was so hot and
angry—thinking that the missing boys had been murdered—that I was eager
to begin by attacking straightaway. It looked as if about 400 spear-men
were assembled and I meant to give them a genuine shaking up with my
10-shot ·303, followed by my 10-shot Mauser pistol. I felt confident that
as soon as I let loose on them and killed one or two the others would run
like rabbits. It never came to a fight, for some old unarmed men and
women came tottering up, picking grass at every step, biting it in two
and casting the bits to the winds. This meant peace; peace at any price.
Where were my porters? They did not know, really they did not. But they
would be all right. Nobody would harm them. I told them to go and produce
every one of them unharmed or I would take and kill all their cattle and
a lot of them besides. Moreover, if any armed man approached anywhere
near to the cattle I would shoot him dead. The cattle would remain
there—between ourselves we could not have handled them—until the porters
were produced.

And produced they were, very quickly. They had merely lost their way
among the villages and had been guided back.

I did not regret having had this opportunity of showing the natives that
as far as my people were concerned we were prepared to fight savagely for
any member of the safari and not—as did the traders—let stragglers be
murdered without even a protest. The noise of this affair travelled far
and probably saved us a lot of trouble in our after dealings.

Another reason for this apathy on the part of the Swahili leaders was, I
think, that the certainty of murder awaiting anyone on the road prevented
desertion. They were enabled by this means to keep their boys for years
without payment of wages. So long as they could prevent the boys from
reaching Mumias alive there was no redress. Hence it was difficult for
the Government representative at Mumias to get reliable information of
the internal state of Karamojo.

On our arrival at Mani-Mani we were met by one Shundi—a remarkable man.
Kavirondo by birth, he had been captured early in life, taken to the
coast and sold as a slave. Being a man of great force of character he
had soon freed himself by turning Mohammedan. Thence onward fortune had
smiled upon him until at last here he was, the recognised chief _Tajir_
(rich man) of all the traders. Having naturally the intelligence to
recognise the value of bluff and from his primitive ancestors the nerve
to carry it off, he was at this time the greatest of all the traders.
Just as he had been a leader while slave-raiding was the order of the
day, so now he led when ivory had given place to slaves as a commodity.
One other thing makes him conspicuous, at any rate, in my mind, and that
was the fact that he had owned the slave who had laid low the elephant
which bore the enormous tusks, one of which now reposes in the South
Kensington Museum. These tusks are still, as far as I know, the record.
The one which we have in London scales 234 lb. or thereabouts. According
to Shundi his slave killed it with a muzzle-loader on the slopes of
Kilimandjaro.

Shundi was accompanied by a large body of traders of all sorts. There
were Arabs, Swahilis, one or two Persians and a few African born
Baluchis, and a pretty tough lot they looked. Beside their mean and
cunning air Shundi—the great coal-black Bantu—appeared like a lion among
hyenas. What an extraordinary calm and dignity some of these outstanding
black men have. Here was a kin spirit to Buba Gida.

They hated my appearing in their country, but did not show it. Shundi
took it in the spirit that what had to be had to be, but some of the
lesser villains were obviously nervous. They pretended to wish me to
camp inside the town, but I preferred to remain outside. The town was
of very considerable size, although the buildings were of a temporary
construction. I remarked an extraordinary number of women about and
thought that I recognised Masai types among them. This was so, as I
afterwards learnt that Shundi alone had over eighty women, many of whom
were Masai from Kilimandjaro.

With native politeness gifts of food, etc., were offered and presently
all withdrew, intimating that they would return when I had rested.

They must have been feeling rather uncomfortable about the appearance
in their midst of a white man, possibly an agent of that detestable
Government so troublesome about raiding. I did not actually know at the
time, but learnt afterwards that at the very moment of my arrival in
their midst they had an enormous raid on the Turkana underway.

In the afternoon they came again and we had the usual ceremonial palaver.
Every one was strictly guarded, but they made a distinct effort to
embroil me with the natives in the hope, I suppose, of getting me so
mixed up in some shooting affair that I would become more or less one
of themselves. I refused to have anything to do with their intrigues. I
got little information regarding elephant from these people. In fact,
neither side could quite overcome a severely suppressed but quite strong
hostility to the other.

I stayed a few days at Mani-Mani as there were repairs to be attended
to and man and beast required a rest. The first sign of trouble soon
appeared, caused, I feel certain, by Swahili intrigue. It was the dry
season and all animals were watered once a day at the wells dug in the
otherwise dry river-bed. My animals were being watered as usual. That is,
water was drawn from the well in buckets and emptied into a watertight
ground sheet laid over a suitable depression in the sand. Word was
suddenly brought to me that the natives refused to allow my animals
to be watered. I went at once to the scene and asked the natives what
all the trouble was about. There were about forty young bloods leaning
against their spears and they laughed in the most insolent manner without
giving me any answer. I turned to my herds and beckoned them to bring
up the animals. As they began to do so three of the bloods strode over
and began flogging the thirsty bullocks in the face and driving them
off. It was now or never, first impression and so on. I seized from the
nearest Karamojan his cutting-edged club, sprang over to one of the
bullock obstructors and dealt him the hardest blow on the head I possibly
could. I was fairly hefty, in good training, and meant all I knew. To
my astonishment the native turned on me a smile instead of dropping
dead or at least stunned, while the club flew to atoms. I had hit his
shock-absorbing periwig, previously described. I might as well have hit a
Dunlop Magnum.

I must confess it was rather a set-back. However, one good effect it
had was that everyone, except myself, roared with laughter, and then
when even I began to see the humour of it I spotted a mischievous devil
calmly jabbing his spear through our priceless waterproof ground sheet.
This would not do, so I drew my Mauser pistol. Now these natives were
then at a most dangerous stage of ignorance with regard to firearms.
Their experience of them had been gathered on raids with the Swahilis,
and they all firmly held the conviction that all you had to do to avoid
being struck by the bullet was to _duck when you saw the smoke_. While I
was fitting the wooden holster to the Mauser they watched me carefully.
They had probably never seen such a gun before if they even recognised it
as such. When therefore I had it fitted up and was covering them no one
moved. They were waiting, I suspect, for the smoke. And when they heard
the particularly vicious bang of the little Mauser and saw no smoke, the
laugh this time was rather on them, and especially on the gentleman who
had been so busy with his spear and my ground sheet; for he now stood
looking at a half severed and completely spoilt spear in his hand with a
ridiculous air of surprised injury. In a few seconds the humour of this
phase struck all concerned, although the natives began to edge nervously
away. All their swagger was gone now. I had been approaching the fellow
with the damaged spear, and now suddenly set upon him, relying upon my
herds to help me. Never have I felt anything like the sinewy strength of
that greasy native; he was all but off when the boys secured him just
in time. Seeing some flourishing of spears going on among the others, I
began pasting dust about them with the little Mauser. Seeing no smoke
again, yet getting whing whang right and left of them, they turned and
bolted. I got in another clip of ten and kept them dodging dust-bursts
for 400 or 500 yds.

On returning I put it out among the natives that our prisoner would be
released when ten goats and sheep had been paid by his family as a fine.
They were soon forthcoming.

Up till now I had been looked upon by the natives as a sort of poor Arab.
In this idea they were no doubt helped by the traders. They had never
seen white men, and they saw my mean little safari and drew their own
conclusions from appearances. But after the affair at the water hole I
was treated with much greater respect, and with a kind of good-humoured
indulgence, much as a very persistent headstrong child might be looked
upon. And eventually, after a few more “incidents,” we became fast
friends and they would do almost anything for me or for my people. One
instance of this I may as well here record, although it happened long
afterwards.

Away down in civilised parts I had left two aged Wanyamwezi boys in
charge of my cattle ranch. This was situated a few miles from Nandi Boma
(Government Post). At the Boma post office I had left directions for my
letters to be forwarded to another Boma on the slopes of Elgon, where
I used to send every six months or so to get them. All my letters went
as directed until there occurred a change of District Commissioner. Now
one of my old pensioners looking after the ranch had orders to report
every fortnight to the D.C. that all was well or otherwise. In pursuit
of these instructions the old boy appeared one day before the new D.C.,
who asked him who he was. He said he belonged to me, naming me. The
D.C. said he had some letters for me, and told the boy to _take them
to me_, thinking that I was at the ranch a few miles off, instead of
which I was actually over 600 miles away. That dear old man took the
letters without a word, went straight back to the ranch and prepared to
follow me into what was much of it quite unknown country. He told the
other boy, who was also about sixty-five years of age, that he would
have to look after everything himself as he was going after the Bwana
(master). Being a thrifty old soul, he had by him much stock of dry
smoked beef from cows which had died. His preparations were, therefore,
almost complete. An inveterate snuff-taker, he had only to grind up a
good quantity for the journey and he was ready. Shouldering his Snider
and with the packet of letters cunningly guarded against wet, off he
set through the wilderness, steering due north. Sleeping by night alone
by his camp fire and travelling the whole of the day, he came wandering
through what would have been to anyone else hostile tribe after hostile
tribe. Countries where if I sent at all I sent at least five guns as
escort he came through without trouble. How often he must have been
looked upon by the lecherous eyes of would-be bloods as fair game for
their spears and as means of gaining the coveted tattoo marks and the
blood red ostrich feather. But so sublimely unconscious was he of any
feeling of nervousness and so bold and confident his bearing that nothing
happened. Being old and wise, he courted the routes which led through the
most populous centres instead of dodging along the neutral zones between
tribes as a nervous man would have done. Had he done this he would to
a certainty have been killed. Wherever he went he slept in the largest
village, demanded _and got_ the best of everything, and eventually
reached me intact. It was a splendid effort. He walked into camp as if
he had left it five minutes before, and he still had smoked beef and
snuff when he arrived. The dear old hoarder had lived to some purpose on
the natives as he passed through. He arrived, if you please, escorted by
a number of Karamojan big-men, this dingy and, I have to say it, very
dirty old man. The letters, alas! proved to be most uninteresting in
themselves, but, nevertheless, they formed a link with civilisation. They
were chiefly bills from unscrupulous Coast merchants being rendered for
the third and fourth time although already paid at least once.

The newspapers were, of course, very old, but produced an extraordinary
feeling of uneasiness or disquietude. Leading the life I then was,
with its freedom from financial care—money was valueless and never
handled—from responsibility—there was no law in the land except that of
force—it had rather the effect of a sudden chill to read of strikes,
famines, railway accidents, unemployment, lawsuits, and the other
thousand and one unhappinesses usually contained in newspapers. Although
I read them, every word, including the advertisements—here again remedies
for ills—I felt distinctly perturbed for two or three days after. The
happiest literature I ever had in the bush was “Pickwick Papers,” and the
happiest newspaper the dear old _Field_.

III.—THE COMING OF PYJALÉ

From Mani-Mani we moved on to Bukora, another section of Karamojans.
I was warned by the Swahilis that Bukora was a very bad country. The
people were very rich in cattle and correspondingly insolent. Everyone
who passed through Bukora had trouble. Either stock was stolen or porters
murdered.

I cannot say that I believed all this, or perhaps I would not have been
so ready to go there. But that there was some truth in their statements I
soon found. In fact, there were moments when it was touch and go. Looking
back on it calmly I can see that nothing but chance luck saved us. It
was thus: We pushed our way smartly right into the middle of Bukora,
intending to camp near some large village. But to our disappointment the
catchments of water were nearly dry. What remained in them was merely
mud. We were obliged therefore to move on to some wells on the outskirts
of the villages. This is always a bad place to be attacked in. Natives
are much more willing to attack people outside than when they are right
in their midst. When you are close alongside a village and there is any
question of hostilities, the people of that particular village feel that
they will probably come in for more than their share of the trouble when
it begins. They have their goods and chattels there, their corn, cows,
babies, fowls, etc. For these reasons they are against hostilities.
Another advantage to the travellers when close to stockaded villages—as
these were—is that such a village can be rushed and then held against the
rest of the tribe.

[Illustration: THAT LUNATIC PYJALÉ SPEARS AN ELEPHANT AND MAKES TROUBLE
FOR EVERYONE.]

However, I was young and without much thought of anything in those days,
and camp by the wells I would. We accordingly did so. And presently the
camp began to fill with apparently friendly natives. They dropped in by
twos and threes and stood around, each man with two spears. I thought
they seemed a nice friendly, sociable crowd, and took little further heed
of them. Then comes my headman, a Swahili, to me. “Bwana, there is no
good brewing. These people mean trouble. Look around, do you see a single
woman anywhere?” I laughed and asked him what he thought they would do.
He said that at a given pre-arranged signal they would start spearing
everyone. And then it dawned on me how absurdly easy it would be for them
to do so. When you came to look around with this thought in your mind it
became apparent that every man was being marked by several spear-men. If
he moved they also lounged about until they were again close to him. I
must say they appeared to me to act the indifference part very well. When
I had convinced myself that something of this nature really was afoot, I
naturally got close to my shooting irons, ready to take a hand when the
fun started. In those days I always wore fifty rounds in my belt.

Now I thought that if I could only supply something sufficiently
distracting the affair might never begin. There over the plains were
plenty of game. I took my rifle and got the interpreter to tell the
Karamojans to come as I was going killing meat. They came at once in fair
numbers. They had already heard of my wonderful rifles, and wherever I
went I always had an audience eager to see them or the Bom-bom (Mauser
pistol) at work.

Hardly had we gone a few hundred yards, and while we were still in full
view of the camp, when a herd of zebra came galloping across our front.
They had been alarmed by some abnormal movement of natives and had
somehow got mixed up and lost.

They came well spaced apart and just right for my purpose. I shot one
after the other as hard as I could fire. I was using a 10 shot ·303, and
when I had fired the ten shots the survivors of the herd were too far
off. I was careful not to reload in the ordinary way, for I carried
another charged magazine. Consequently the natives thought I might have
any number of shots left in this quite new and terrifying weapon. No
smoke and such a rapid fire of death—they had never seen the like. Bing!
bing! bing! bing! bing! they kept saying to themselves, only much more
rapidly than the actual rate of fire. And the zebras, strong brutes,
knocked right down one after the other. No! this was something new. They
had better be careful about fooling around with this _red_ man. He was
different from those red men among the Swahilis, who used to fire great
clouds of smoke and hit nothing.

After an episode of this kind one _feels_ somehow that a complete mental
transformation has taken place. One is established right above these, in
some ways, finer but less scientific people. But this knowledge comes
to both at the same time. I now ordered these previously truculent, now
almost servile, savages to flay, cut up and carry to camp every bit of
meat and skin. When I saw anyone sneaking a bit of fat or what-not I
blackguarded him soundly. I rushed the whole regiment back to camp loaded
with several tons of meat, many of them forgetting their spears in their
hurry. But had I ventured to bullyrag them like this before the zebra
incident I would have had a spear thrust for answer and right quickly too.

I now began to push enquiries about elephant, but with no great success
at first. One day a Bukora boy came to camp and while in conversation
with some of my people casually told them that he had recently returned
from no man’s land, where he and some friends of his had been looking for
Kumamma. The Kumamma were their neighbours to the west. They had been
looking for them in order to spear them, should things be right—that
meaning should the enemy be in sufficiently small force for them to
easily overcome. When the numbers are at all equal, both sides retire
smartly to the rear. This is the normal kind of state in which these
tribes live. It leads to a few deaths certainly, but it keeps the young
men fit and out of other mischief. Every young man goes looking for
blood frequently, and as they carry no food except a few handfuls of
unground millet simply soaked in water, and as they never dare to sleep
while in the neutral zone, it acts as a kind of field training.

This youth, then, had seen no Kumamma but had seen elephant. My boys
told me this and I tried to get the lad to go with us to hunt. He said
he would come back and let me know. He did so and brought a friend. This
friend of his was a most remarkable-looking man. Strange as it may seem,
he had a most intellectual head. He was a man of perhaps thirty-five
years of age, most beautifully made and tattooed for men victims only,
I was relieved to see. Pyjalé was his name, and now began a firm and
long friendship between this distinguished savage and myself. I cannot
say that I have ever had the same feelings for any man as I came to have
for Pyjalé. He was, I found, a thorough man, courageous, quiet, modest,
with a horror of humbug and untiring in our common pact, the pursuit of
elephant. He was with me during the greater part of my time in Karamojo,
and although surrounded by people who clothed themselves, never would
he wear a rag even. Nor would he sleep comfortably as we did on grass
and blankets. The bare hard ground out by the camp fire with a hole dug
for his hip bone and his little wooden pillow had been good enough for
him before and was good enough now. No one poked fun at Pyjalé for his
nakedness; he was the kind who do not get fun poked at them.

Pyjalé was game to show us elephants, but said we would have to travel
far. His intelligence was at once apparent by his saying that we ought to
take tents as the rains might come any day. He was right, for come they
did while we were hunting.

I took to Pyjalé right at the start and asked him what I should do
about the main safari. He said I could leave it where it was; no one
would interfere with it. If I liked I could leave the ivory in one of
the villages. This I gathered was equivalent to putting one’s silver in
the bank at home. And so it is, bizarre as it may seem. You may leave
anything with natives—ivory, beads, which are money, trade goods, stock,
anything—and not one thing will they take provided you place it in their
care. But if you leave your own people to look after it they will steal
it, given the chance.

Thinking that it might save trouble I put all my trade goods and ivory
in a village, and leaving the safari with plenty of rations, I left for
a few days’ hunting, taking a sufficient number of porters to bring home
any ivory we were likely to get. This was necessary at this time as the
natives did not yet follow me in hundreds wherever I went, as they did
later on.

We trekked hard for three days and came once more in sight of the
Debasien range, but on its other side. On the night of the third day the
rains burst upon us. The light calico bush tents were hastily erected in
a perfect gale and downpour. Even Pyjalé had to shelter.

In the morning Pyjalé said we were certain to see elephant if we could
only cross a river which lay ahead of us. When we reached its banks it
was a raging torrent, red with mud and covered with patches of white
froth. There was nothing for it but to camp and wait until the spate
subsided.

While this was being done I saw a snake being carried down by the swollen
river. Then I saw another and another. Evidently banks were being washed
away somewhere.

A boy pointed to my shorts and said that a _doodoo_ (insect) had crawled
up the inside of one of my legs. Thinking, perhaps, it was a fly, or not
thinking at all, perhaps, I slapped my leg hard with open hand and got a
most frightful sting, while a huge scorpion dropped half crushed to the
ground. But not before he had injected quite sufficient poison into me.
“Insect,” indeed! how I cursed that boy. And then, by way of helping me,
he said that when people were stung by these big black scorpions—like
mine—they always died. He was in a frightful state. And then another
fool boy said: “Yes, no one ever recovered from that kind.” I shouted
for whisky, for you certainly could feel the poison going through the
circulation. I knew that what the boys said was bunkum, but still I drank
a lot of whisky. My leg swelled and I could not sleep that night, but I
was quite all right next day.

The river had gone down somewhat, so I proposed to cross. No one was very
eager to go across with a rope. A rope was necessary, as some of the boys
could not swim and the current was running too strong for them to walk
across the bottom under water, carrying stones to keep them down, as they
usually did.

I carried at that time a Mexican raw hide lariat and thought that this
stretched across would do nicely for the boys to haul themselves over by.
So I took one end to the other side and made it fast, when the safari
began to come over. Once the plunge had been taken I found that more of
them could swim than they had led me to believe. Then the inevitable—when
raw hide gets wet—happened and the rope parted. As luck would have it
there was a boy about mid-stream at the instant. The slippery end slid
through his fingers and he went rapidly down-stream. His head kept going
under and reappearing I noticed, but thought that, as he had a smile on
his face each time he came up, he was another humbug pretending to be
unable to swim. His friends, who knew perfectly well that he could not
swim a yard, said, of course, not a word. And it was not until he gushed
water at the mouth instead of air that I realised he was drowning. I
ran down the bank while another boy plunged in at the crossing place. I
reached the boy first by a second and we soon had him towing to bank.
Black men are good to save, they never seem to realise their close call
and do not clutch and try to climb out on you. While towing to the bank I
felt something on my head and put up a hand to brush it off. Horrors, a
snake! It was merely trying to save itself on anything above water level,
but I did not realise this. Whenever I knocked it off it seemed to come
again. Luckily we just then reached the bank or in another instant I
would have abandoned my drowning porter to save myself from that beastly
serpent. It was all very silly, and the snake was nearly at its last
gasp, but I did not see the humour at the moment. Needless to say, the
boy was perfectly all right in ten minutes after vomiting up a bucket or
two of water.

While we were getting ready again for the march we heard elephant. To my
inexperienced ear the sound seemed to come from some bush 400 yds. or 500
yds. away. But Pyjalé said, to my astonishment, that they were a long way
off and that unless we hurried we should not see them before sundown.
As the sun then indicated about one o’clock, I thought he was wrong.
But he was not; for it was half an hour from sunset when we saw them,
still far away. I remember looking industriously about all those miles
expecting momentarily to see elephant, while Pyjalé soaked along ahead
of me without a glance aside. The only explanation of this extraordinary
sound-carrying that has ever occurred to me is humidity of atmosphere.
During the dry season the earth becomes so hot that when the first rains
fall much is evaporated in steam and the humidity is remarkable.

Here we were face to face with such a gathering of elephant as I had
never dared to dream of even. The whole country was black with them, and
what lay beyond them one could not see as the country was dead flat. Some
of them were up to their knees in water, and when we reached their tracks
the going became very bad. The water was so opaque with mud as to quite
hide the huge pot-holes made by the heavy animals. You were in and out
the whole time. As we drew nearer I thought that we ought to go decently
and quietly, at any rate make some pretence of stalking them, if only out
of respect to them. But no, that awful Pyjalé rushed me, splashing and
squelching right up to them. He was awfully good, and I began to learn a
lot from him. He treated elephant with complete indifference. If he were
moved at all, and that was seldom, he would smile.

I was for treating them as dangerous animals, especially when we trod
on the heels of small bogged-down calves and their mothers came rushing
back at us in the most alarming fashion, but Pyjalé would have none
of it. Up to the big bulls would he have me go, even if we had to go
under infuriated cows. He made me kill seven before sundown stopped the
bloodshed.

With great difficulty we found a spot a little higher than the
surrounding country and fairly dry. As usual at these flood times the
little island was crawling with ants of every description. How comes it
that ants do not drown, although they cannot swim? They appear to be
covered with something which repels water.

Scorpions and all kinds of other horrors were there also. One of the boys
was bitten and made a fearful fuss all night about it.

I expected to do well on the morrow, but when it came, behold, not an
elephant in sight. Such are the surprises of elephant hunting. Yesterday
when light failed hundreds upon hundreds in sight and now an empty
wilderness.

We had not alarmed them, as I noticed that when a shot was fired only the
animals in the vicinity ran and that for a short distance only. There
were too many to stampede even had they been familiar with firearms. And
the noise was such as to drown the crack of a ·303 almost immediately.

I asked Pyjalé what he thought about it. He said that at the beginning
of the rains elephant wandered all over the country. You could never
tell where they might be. With water and mud and green food springing
up everywhere they were under no necessity to frequent any one district
more than another. Pyjalé’s advice was to get the ivory out and take it
home, and then he would show me a country where we were certain to get
big bulls. Accordingly the boys set about chopping out while I went for a
cruise around to make certain there was nothing about.

I saw nothing but ostrich, giraffe and great herds of common and Topi
haartebeeste. On crossing some black-cotton soil I noticed that it clung
to the boots in a very tiresome way. Each time you lifted a foot, 10 lb.
or 15 lb. of sticky mud came with it. At this stage the ground was still
dry underneath, only the top few inches being wet. From the big lumps
lying about where antelope had passed it was obvious that they had, too,
the same trouble as I was having, _i.e._, mud clinging to the feet.

But on watching Pyjalé it appeared that it did not stick to naked human
feet to anything like the same extent. Pyjalé told me, and I afterwards
saw it actually done, that it was possible to run down ostrich and the
heavy antelope, such as eland, when the ground was in this state.

Returning we found the boys well on with their chopping out. Towards
evening we started for home, being much troubled with swollen rivers.
Most of the boys walked through the rivers when we could find a place
where the current was not too strong. The heavy tusks, of course, kept
them on the bottom. But it was a curious sight to see them calmly
marching in deeper and deeper until their heads went right under,
reappearing again close to the other bank. Of course, the distance they
thus traversed was only a few yards, but for fellows who cannot swim it
was not bad.

One camp from home (the safari) we slept near some flooded wells. The
boys took their tusks to scrub them with sand and water, the better to
make an appearance on the morrow when we should rejoin the safari. This
is always a source of joy to Wanyamwezi, to carry ivory to the base. When
allowed to do so they will spend hours dancing and singing their way into
the camp. The women turn out, everybody makes a noise of some kind, from
blowing a reed pipe, to trumpeting on a water buck horn or beating a drum
or a tin, in fact anything so that it produces noise.

While they were scrubbing the tusks one of these slipped from the boy’s
hands into a well. I heard of it and went to see what could be done. To
test the depth I tried one of Pyjalé’s 9 ft. spears. No good. Then I tied
another to it, but even then I could not touch bottom. Pyjalé said the
bottom was very far. Then I looked at one of my boys squatting on the
edge of the well. He had been a coast canoe-man shark-fisher—than whom no
finer watermen exist—and knew what I meant without a word passing. He
tied his cloth between his legs and stripped his upper body. Then jumping
into the air he twisted half round and went down head first into the very
middle of the well. It seemed ages before his head reappeared. At last it
did so, but only for an instant. Down again; apparently he had not found
it the first time. After another long wait he came up with the tusk and
swimming or treading water. Eager hands clutched the tusk and drew it
out, the boy crawled out himself. This particular tusk weighed 65 lb.,
the length being almost the diameter of the well, so it had to be brought
up end on. How he did it I cannot imagine. The water was the colour of
pea-soup, and a scrubbed tusk is like a greasy pole to hold. Of course,
it would not weigh 65 lb. when submerged, but it was a pretty good effort
I thought. I know I would not have gone 20 ft. or 30 ft. down that well
for any number of tusks.

These boys have the most extraordinary lungs. I once sent one of them
down to disentangle the anchor of a motor launch, which had got foul of
something. There were about four fathoms of chain and the boy went down
this hand over hand. I only wanted him to clear the anchor, when we would
heave it up in the ordinary way. But presently up the chain came the boy
and the anchor.

On the morrow we entered Bukora again, with fourteen fine white tusks.
We had a great reception at our camp. The natives, too, were rather
astonished at our rapid success. Pyjalé stalked along without any show of
feeling.

The boys who had stayed behind had nothing to report except the loss of
three of our sheep by theft. Now it was essential to nip this kind of
thing in the bud. I did nothing that day, merely sending Pyjalé to his
home with a handsome present. I knew he would put it round as to the kind
of people we were. Natives always exaggerate enormously when back from
a scurry in the bush, and his account of our doings would probably have
made me blush had I heard it.

Next day when Pyjalé came with a pot of fresh cow’s milk as a present, I
asked him if he had heard anything about our sheep. He said no. I asked
him to point me out the village which had stolen them. He said they would
kill him if he did so. Therefore he knew. I then said that he need not go
with me, if only he would indicate it. He said the village with the three
tamarind trees was where the thieves lived.

I went over quietly, as if looking for guinea-fowl, in the evening. The
village was quite close to our camp. When their stock began to come in I
signalled up some boys. We walked up deliberately to the herds, no one
taking any great notice of us. I separated out a mob of sheep and goats
and we started driving them towards camp, but very quietly and calmly. It
is wonderful how imitative Africans are. If you are excited they at once
become so. If you are calm and deliberate, so are they.

A more dramatic thing would have been to take the cattle. But these
native cattle are not used to boys wearing clothes, as mine did, and
we found at Mani-Mani that they became excited and difficult to handle
unless they see their black naked owners about. Pyjalé I had carefully
left out of this business.

As soon as our object dawned upon the Karamojans there was the usual
commotion. Women wha! wha! wha-ed while rushing from the huts with
shields; warriors seized these and rushed with prodigious speed directly
away from us; while we pushed our two or three hundred hostages slowly
along.

Arrived at camp we just managed to squeeze them all into the bullock
boma. There were noises all round us now. The boys were uneasy; there
is always something in the alarm note when issued by hundreds of human
throats. Dark was soon on us and we sat up by the camp fires till fairly
late. Nothing happened, as I anticipated. Discretion had won. They hated
that little bom-bom so.

What I wanted now was that they should come. I wanted to tell them why I
had taken their sheep. No one appeared, but I consoled myself with the
thought that they jolly well knew why I had taken them.

Presently there appeared to be great signs of activity in one of the
nearer villages. Native men kept coming from all directions. My boys were
all eyes for this, to them, impending attack. I thought they must be born
fools to try anything of that sort in broad daylight. Night was their
best chance.

Pyjalé had been absent, so I hoped that he was at the meeting. Presently
he appeared. He said they had had a discussion and had concluded not to
attack us. I told him to go straight back and invite them all to come;
I wanted to be attacked. And moreover, if my sheep were not instantly
brought I would proceed to kill the hostage sheep we held, and that then
I would proceed to hunt the thieves.

This acted like magic; I suppose they thought that as I had known the
village of the thieves, I also probably knew the actual men themselves.
Our sheep were very soon brought and the hostages released.

I took the opportunity when the natives were there to impress upon them
that we did not want anything from them. All we wanted was to hunt
elephant in peace, but at the same time I hinted that we could be very
terrible indeed. I got some of the older men to dry up and sit down, in a
friendly way, and we had a good talk together. I now brought out the card
to which I owed all my success in killing elephant in Karamojo. I offered
a cow as reward for information leading to my killing five or more bull
elephant. This was an unheard of reward. There a cow of breeding age is
simply priceless. Normally natives never kill or sell she-stock of any
kind and cows could only be obtained by successful raiding. Now among
Africans there are numbers of young men who just lack the quality which
brings success to its lucky owner, just as there are in every community,
and to these young men my offer appealed tremendously. That they believed
in my promise from the very start was, I thought, a great compliment,
not only to me, but to their astuteness in perceiving that there was a
difference between white men and Swahilis.

When my offer had gone the rounds the whole country for many miles round
was scoured for elephant, with the result that I never could have a day’s
rest. Everyone was looking for elephant. But had the reward been trade
goods scarcely a soul would have bothered about it.

The first man to come was remarkable looking enough to satisfy anybody.
A terrible looking man. A grotesquely hideous face above a very broad
and deep chest, all mounted on the spindliest of knock-kneed legs.
Chest, arms, shoulders, stomach and back heavily tattooed, denoting much
killing. By reputation a terrific fighter, and very wealthy.

At first I thought that he was come to show me elephant. That was his
intention, he said, but first he wanted to become my blood-brother. He
said he could see that I was a kindred spirit and that we two should
be friends. He said he had no friends. How was that? I asked. Pyjalé
answered in a whisper that the lion never made friends of jackals
and hyenas. And so we became friends. I was not going through the
blood-brotherhood business, with its eating of bits of toasted meat
smeared with each other’s blood, sawing in two of living dogs or nonsense
of that kind. I took his hand and wrung it hard, and had it explained to
him that among us that was an extraordinarily potent way of doing it.
That seemed to satisfy the old boy, for the act of shaking hands was as
strange to him as the act of eating each other’s blood is to us.

He started off then and I said: “What about those elephant?” “Wait,” was
the answer, and off he went, to return shortly with a fat bullock. And
then I found that my friend was the wealthiest cattle owner anywhere
about—a kind of multi-millionaire. I thought to myself, well, he will not
look for elephant. Nor did he; but he had sons without number, being much
married, whom he scattered far and wide to look for them. He had arranged
the thing most perfectly. We went with food for a few days and returned
laden with ivory. Besides which we had some of the jolliest nights in the
bush.

[Illustration: LONGELLY-NYMUNG, THE AUTHOR’S BLOOD BROTHER.

_One of the best spear-fighters and therefore wealthy in cattle. He was
an exceptional man, would accept no gifts, but took Mr. Bell’s native
name and also called his male children by it._]

[Illustration: THE RETURN OF THE SAFARI.]

This great man being now my friend, our troubles were at an end. Wherever
we went we were followed by scores of the young unmarried girls and
one old maid—the only one I have come across in Karamojo. She was so
outstandingly above the average in good looks, so beautifully made and
so obviously still quite young, that I often asked why she should remain
a spinster. They told me that no man would marry her because she was so
beautiful. But why should that be a bar? we white men like our wives to
be beautiful. They thought this strange, even for white men. They said
they never married very beautiful women as all men wanted them. They also
gave as another reason that these very attractive women wanted all men.
And I must say that our camp beauty gave decided colour to this latter
statement.

No sooner were we arrived back with our imposing line of beautiful tusks
than other natives clamoured to take us to elephant. They wanted me to go
there and then, but I needed a rest.

In the evening I presented my friend with a heifer, when to my
astonishment he refused it. He said he wanted nothing from his friend. I
was rather suspicious about this at first, but I need not have been, as
I subsequently found this man to be thoroughly genuine. I am convinced
that he would have given me anything. It is a big affair in their lives,
this blood-brotherhood. Apparently we now owned everything in common. He
offered me any of his daughters in marriage, and, thank goodness, never
asked me for my rifle. From now on he followed me about like a faithful
dog, some of his young wives attending to his commissariat arrangements
wherever he was. He even took my name, which was Longelly-nymung or Red
Man. And he began now to call his young male children, of whom he was
very fond, by the same name. He was a delightfully simple fellow at heart
and as courageous as a lion, as I had proof later.

After a few more journeys to the bush lasting from four to ten days, I
found suddenly that I had as much ivory as I could possibly move. And
this, while still on the fringe of Karamojo. I decided to return to
Mumias, sell my ivory, fit out a real good expedition capable of moving
several tons of ivory, and return to Karamojo fitted out for several
years in the bush.

DABOSSA

Having now the wherewithal to fit out a real good safari from the sale of
my ivory, I proceeded to discharge my Baganda porters and to engage in
their place Wanyamweze. Bagandas being banana-eaters had shown themselves
to be good lads enough, but poor “doers” on ground millet, flour and
elephant meat. Dysentery was their trouble. Whereas Wanyamweze seemed
capable of keeping their condition indefinitely under severe safari
conditions. All my former boys had a good pay-day coming to them, as,
of course, they had been unable to spend anything while in Karamojo.
Consequently they one and all went on the burst. A few new clothes from
the Indian shops and the rest on native beer was the rule. When drinking
largely of native beer no other food is required as the whole grain is
contained in it. My two Nandi cowherds spent hardly anything of their
wages. The only things I ever saw them buy were a fat sheep and two tins
of sweet condensed milk. They rendered down about two quarts of fat from
the tail of the sheep, poured in the contents of the milk tins, stirred
it well and drank it off.

This time bullocks were not employed, donkeys taking their place. It was
in connection with the buying of these donkeys that a remarkable feat of
foot-travelling came to my notice. A trader wished to sell to me some
donkeys—probably raided—which he had left at Mani-Mani, about 150 miles
away. He offered a Karamojan a cow as reward for bringing them down in
time for me to buy, and the boy had them there at the end of the fourth
day. As nearly as I could ascertain he had covered 300 miles in 100
hours.

We crossed the Turkwell about 102 strong, this number not including
women and camp followers. At Mani-Mani and Bukora some of our cows were
exchanged for sheep, goats and donkeys. A decent cow would bring sixty
sheep or goats. A donkey was the equivalent of ten sheep or goats. Having
now so many mouths to feed it was necessary to buy many donkeys. I raised
our donkey strength to 160. This meant that I could have constantly
loaded about eighty. They were chiefly employed in carrying grain to our
base camp in Dodose, sometimes from Mt. Elgon, where banana flour could
be got, over 200 miles away, or from the country near the Nile, 150 to
200 miles distant. Throughout all this trekking, with two donkeys to one
saddle, they never had a sore back.

On our arrival at Mani-Mani we found the Swahili village almost deserted.
Everyone was out on a raid. They had reckoned that no one in their senses
would return to the wilderness so soon as I had. They could not conceive
how I had spent the proceeds of all that ivory in so short a time. I
learnt that they were out against the Dabossans in whose country I meant
to hunt. I therefore laid out my route so as to intercept the returning
raiders.

Passing through Bukora we were greeted as old friends, a very different
reception from our first. Pyjalé immediately joined up, and after taking
a few good bull elephants from the Bukora-Kumamma neutral zone we trekked
leisurely and heavily laden northwards.

At the last village of Bukora we met commotion and wailing. The occasion
was the murder of three young Bukora girls of marriageable age at the
hands of some roving band of Jiwé bloods. These affairs were of quite
common occurrence, and the natives could never understand the disgust and
abhorrence they drew from me. I was eventually able to stop the killing
of females, at least while I was in the country.

Pitching camp late one night in the fighting zone between Bukora and
Jiwé, lions were sighted leaving the rocky hills for the game-covered
plains. Although almost dark I succeeded in killing two within a short
distance of camp. I returned and was seated by the camp-fire when I
heard alarming shouts from the direction of the dead lions. In this kind
of life something is constantly turning up, and one soon learns to be
always ready. The occurrences are so simple as to require but simple
remedies. Everything seems to demand the presence of a rifle and just an
ordinary sense of humour to transform an imminent tragedy into African
comedy. Seizing my ·275 I rushed through the darkness towards the shouts,
and what I found was that one lion had been skinned and the other half
flayed when it had suddenly come to life again. The boys said that as
they were removing its skin it suddenly and without warning stood up,
opened its mouth and rushed at them. But what I found was a half-skinned
lion with its head alive but the rest of it dead or paralysed. It could
open its mouth and growl ferociously. Its springing at them must have
been supplied by the boys’ imaginations or to excuse their headlong
flight. Some nerve must have suffered damage in the lion’s neck, leaving
the body paralysed but the head active. One of the boys had been seated
on it when it growled, and his account of the affair in camp raised
bursts of deep-chested Nyamwezi laughter.

These camps in the wonderful African nights of the dry season linger in
my memory as the most enjoyable I have ever experienced. Other nights
have been more exciting and more exhilarating, but also more harmful in
their after-effects. Poker or flying by night, sitting up for elephant or
lion, provide quicker pulse-beats between periods of intense boredom, but
for level quiet enjoyment give me the camp-chair by the camp-fire with
a crowd of happy and contented natives about and the prospect of good
hunting in front and the evidence of good hunting by your side. Looking
back on my safaris I can discern that they were quite exceptionally happy
little collections of human beings. For one reason, health was simply
splendid. Everyone was well and amply tented. All slept warm and dry.
Mosquitoes were rare and stomachs full. Fun was of poor calibre, perhaps,
but high animal spirits were there to make the most of it. The boys had
their women—wives they called them. Tobacco could be traded from the
natives or bought at cost price from the safari slop-chest.

Fighting among the men was always settled in the ring and with 4 oz.
gloves provided by me. When this was found too slow—and they sometimes
pounded each other for an hour on end, rounds being washed out—sticks
were provided and the thing brought to a head more rapidly with the
letting of a little blood. When the women bickered too persistently a
ring would be formed, permission got and the two naggers dragged in. Each
would then hitch up short her cloth about her ample hips and, after being
provided with a hippo-hide whip, at it they would go with fire almost
equal to that of the men. But with this difference. Where the men used
their heads and tried to prevent the other from injuring them, the women
waited motionless and guardless for each other’s strokes. It was the most
extraordinary form of fighting ever seen. A. would catch B. a stinging
swinger on the back and stand waiting for B. to give her a frightful cut
across the shoulders. And so on it would go—szwip! szwop!—for about ten
minutes, when B. would suddenly cast her whip on the ground and flee, A.
in hot pursuit, while shouts of laughter greeted the decision, especially
strong when either combatant lost her last shred of cloth. I must say the
women never bore malice and were always great friends afterwards. Even
during the fighting they never showed vice, for they could as easily as
not have cut the eye out of their unguarded opponent. Yet I never saw
anything approaching an injury inflicted in these affairs.

Then in the evenings there was football. When I first introduced this
game I tried to teach them rugger. They were born rugger players. Fast,
bare-footed, hard, muscular and slippery, they cared not at all for
the ant-heaps, boulders, or thorn bushes which littered their day’s
playground. After carrying a hundredweight all day, pitching camp,
building thorn bomas for the animals and bringing in firewood for the
night, they would go to rugger until dark. So bad were some of the
injuries sustained, owing to the bad terrain, that a new game had to
be evolved more suited to the ground. After various trials a game was
settled upon which seemed to suit. It was simply a kind of massed rush
in which any number could engage. Goals were marked out at distances one
from the other to suit the ground. Then the ball was placed at half-way
and the two opposing sides drawn up in line about 15 yds. from it. At a
signal both sides charged full tilt at each other, meeting about where
the ball was. Then the object was to get the ball by hook or by crook to
the goal. No off-side, no boundaries, no penalties, no referee and no
half-time. Darkness terminated the game. So hard was the ground and so
incessant the wear on the ball that it was seldom one lasted a month. How
they could kick it without breaking their toes always puzzled me.

Our reputation had preceded us, and we were welcomed by the Jiwé people.
So much so that they wished for blood-brotherhood, but I evaded it. We
hunted happily in their country for some time and learnt of an attack on
their country by a Nile tribe with numerous guns of muzzle-loading type.
The Jiwé with spears alone had not only repulsed the attackers but had
massacred most of them. Inadequate supplies of munitions had been their
downfall. The firearms which had been picked up by the Jiwé had since
been traded off to Swahilis.

While chasing elephant in the Jiwé country one day we happened to start
some ostrich running. They took the same line as the fleeing elephant
and soon overhauled them. When close up the cock bird suddenly began the
fantastic dashes here and there usually seen in the breeding season. One
of his speed efforts took him close past a lumbering bull elephant on the
outside of the little herd. These elephants had already been severely
chased and several of their number had been killed. When, therefore, the
black form of the ostrich raced up from behind him the poor old elephant
nearly fell over with fright. His trunk shot out and his ears looked
like umbrellas turned inside out by a sudden gust. But recovering almost
instantly, he settled back to his steady fast retreat.

Our next country northwards was Dodose, where I proposed to establish
the base camp. On entering it we found it high-lying country among steep
little granite hills. We were well received and soon became friendly.
Some wonderful elephant country was reached from Dodose, and it was here
that I got my heaviest ivory. Buffalo were also very numerous. It was
beautiful hunting country, as elephant could frequently be found, with
glasses, from one of the numerous hills.

It was now the dry season; there was, for that reason, only one route
to or from Dabossa, where the Swahili raid was on. I therefore put a
look-out post on this route to bring me news of anyone coming south on
this trail. This post consisted of four of my best Wanyamweze boys with
two natives. As soon as any sign of the returning raiders was seen the
boys were to send a native with the news while they remained to try to
keep any Swahilis until my arrival. I had expected the raiders to have a
fore-guard of some sort and that I would have time to arrive on the scene
between its arrival and the coming of the main body. Instead of this, up
marched the whole body of raiders, cattle and captives, all in charge
of my four stalwarts. What they had told the Swahilis lay in store for
them I never learnt, but it was evidently something dreadful, judging
by the state of panic they were in. I counted their guns and took their
captives—all women—and cattle from them, warned them that next time they
would land up in prison or be shot, and sent them packing.

After a considerable hunt in and around Dodose, it was now time, the
first rains being imminent, to be moving northwards towards Dabossa. In
entering new country for elephant it is always best to get there when the
first rains are on, as the animals then desert their dry-season thick
haunts for the open country.

[Illustration: “THE ELEPHANT NEARLY FELL OVER WITH FRIGHT: HIS TRUNK SHOT
OUT, HIS EARS LOOKED LIKE UMBRELLAS TURNED INSIDE OUT.”]

[Illustration: WATCHING THE NORTHERN TRAIL FOR THE RETURNING RAIDERS.]

Before approaching the inhabited part of Dabossa I knew that it would be
necessary somehow to get into communication with the natives. They had
just recently been raided and would be very nervous and likely to attack
any strangers approaching their country. The Dabossan cattle recently
taken from the raiders were therefore placed in the charge of some of
the Dodose notables, while I and a good little safari headed northwards,
taking with us all the captive women.

When still about forty miles from Dabossa it became evident from signs
that Dabossans were about. We therefore camped by water and built a
strong thorn boma. Everyone was warned not to leave the boma at night,
but one of my personal boys—a brainless Kavirondo—thinking perhaps that
orders were not meant for him, broke camp and was promptly speared. His
cries effectually roused the camp, but the extent of his hurt bore little
resemblance to the volume of his noise. He had a nice little spear thrust
in a tender spot.

The boy’s misfortune was promptly turned to account, for, after stilling
his cries, we got the Dabossan captives to shout into the night all our
news. Our reason for being there, our intentions, how we had their cattle
ready to return to their owners—so far had the narrative got when first
one voice from the dark and then others began asking for news of such and
such a cow or heifer, so-and-so’s bull or bullock. Later women or girl
captives were asked after. Eventually men appeared and were persuaded to
come to camp. Relations became friendly almost at once. At daybreak it
was arranged for some of the natives to go at once to Dabossa and spread
the news, while others accompanied some of my boys back to Dodose in
order to identify their cattle. This was thought necessary as we did not
know the cattle from any others, and also because it was almost certain
that the Dodose notables would try to palm off their duds in place of
the good Dabossan animals. Meanwhile I remained hunting the surrounding
country.

In a few days there arrived a runner from Dodose with the news that my
Dodose notables had held a meeting and, courage brewed by numbers and
beer, had flatly refused to give up the Dabossan cattle left in their
charge. Not knowing my native gentlemen quite as well as I ought to have,
and that courage so rapidly got was as rapidly lost, I was on the point
of rushing back to Dodose when another runner arrived saying that all
was well and that notable after notable had singly and surreptitiously
returned the full tally of cattle left with him. I was relieved to hear
this, as these constant native palavers were taking up a great deal of my
hunting time.

The cattle soon arrived, drank up our small pool of water, and we pushed
off all together for Dabossa. The captive women were now, of course,
quite free to go or stay and, without exception, they remained with us in
idleness until removed by their men folk on our arrival in Dabossa. Had I
allowed it, most of them would have remained as “wives” to my men rather
than go back to the heavy work of tilling in their home gardens.

We had a huge reception in Dabossa. There must have been close on 5,000
spears assembled in the huge open space where we camped. Pow-wows were
the order of one long weary day when the cattle were handed over and
the captives returned to their relations. Peace for us at any rate was
assured, but when I told the Dabossans that no one would attack them and
that they ought to trade peacefully, they swore they would massacre every
Swahili who might venture near their country. After I had explained my
wish to hunt elephant, an old woman got up and made a long speech to the
effect that they owed everything to me and that they ought to give me
a pair of tusks. This they did, not particularly large ones. But what
was better than tusks was guides to the Murua Akipi (Mountain of Water)
country, said to abound in elephant.

This Murua Akipi was the aim of my journey. I had heard of it from native
sources. It was a wonderful country where anything might happen. Huge
elephant lived there. Bad Abyssinians came there. Elephant cemeteries
were to be found there. Water which killed whoever drank it was there and
which looked so cold and clear. No white man had ever seen it, although
every traveller was supposed to be trying to reach it for the mysterious
“thahabu” (gold) it contained. In fact, if one asked for anything under
the sun anywhere within a radius of one hundred miles he would be
referred to that mysterious blue peak, Murua Akipi.

We trailed along through monotonous cultivated country for several days.
Then coming to the end of Dabossa we entered on an exceptionally large
deserted zone. Here hardly anyone ventured, as Habashi (Abyssinian)
prowlers might be met. For several days the large open cotton-soil
plains, with bands of thorn bush, were covered with great numbers of
ostrich and topi haartebeeste. Abyssinians had recently raided the
outskirts of Dabossa and all the boys were rather nervous, having heard
dreadful tales of the Habashi.

We were not long in coming on signs of Habashi methods. Away over the
plains some small black objects were seen. Zeiss showed them to be
people, apparently women, seated on the ground. At closer range there
were seven of them, all young women. Closer still, they appeared to
be bound in a sitting posture, and all were in a very bad state. For
one thing, their tongues all protruded and were black and fly covered.
This was thirst. Their arms were passed inside the knee and were lashed
securely to the outside of the ankle, and so used they were abandoned in
this shameless fashion to rescue on the one hand or death from thirst on
the other.

Having water with us we soon released them and gradually forced
sufficient moisture between tongue and teeth. Contrasted with those
dreadful tongues how perfectly beautiful primitive man’s teeth appeared.
Small, regular and widely set apart from each other, nothing seems to
tarnish their whiteness.

These hardy creatures soon recovered sufficiently to stand up, and we
packed each on a donkey to our next camp, where sufficient water for all
was got. The next day we sent them off to their homes, feeling pretty
certain there could be no Abyssinians between us and Dabossa, as water
was still scarce.

We now sighted Murua Akipi as a minute tooth of pale blue just cutting
the horizon. I thought we would reach it in two days, but it required
four days of long marching to reach a small kopje a few miles from its
base. That tiny tooth grew larger and larger each day until it looked
an enormous size. I daresay it is not more than 2,000 or 3,000 ft., but
being surrounded by huge plains it shows to great advantage.

One day while crossing the plains we had a smart shower which turned the
black powdery soil into very tenacious mud. Walking became a trial for
anything but naked feet, and I asked Pyjalé if the conditions were right
for running down antelope. He assured me they were, and I urged him and
the Dabossans to try it when opportunity arose. This was not long, for
as we came out of a thorn belt we surprised a herd of eland and topi.
Off went Pyjalé and the Dabossans, taking off their spear-guards as they
ran. Off went the antelope, too, and for some time Pyjalé and Co. lost
ground. Through my glasses I could see that the eland threw up much more
mud than the topi and the topi much more than the natives. These latter
hardly ever lifted a clod, whereas the galloping eland hove great masses
into the air at every lurch. Consummate runners as all the natives were,
Pyjalé was easily best. He could probably have closed with his beast
sooner than he did but for his running it in a circle for my benefit.
The heavy and fat eland were soon blown, and Pyjalé presently ranged
alongside and with a neat and lightning dart of his spear thrust it to
the heart. The movement was barely perceptible through the glass.

While on the subject of native runners I would like to tell what took
place at Kampala, the capital of Uganda, in the year when Dorando won
the marathon in England. Everyone was marathon mad, and the fever spread
to Uganda. A marathon for native runners was organised as part of the
attractions of the Show. Native chiefs were warned to seek out and train
any likely talent they might have. The training consisted of feeding the
runners largely on beef.

The course was from Enteble to Kampala show ground with one complete
circuit of the ground. The course was carefully marked and two whites
on bicycles were told off to ride with the runners. The distance, I
believe, was almost exactly the same as the English course. About thirty
runners started in the hottest part of the day, experienced heavy rain
en route, which turned the road to mud and washed out the bicycles, and
thirty runners arrived _together_ at the show ground, tore round the
ground singing and leaping in the air, fresh as paint, completed the
course still all together, and went on circling the ground, thinking they
were giving their lady friends a treat I suppose. They had to be stopped
eventually, but the most astonishing thing was that their time for the
course was almost exactly Dorando’s time, if I remember rightly. They
thought it was better fun to come in all together than by ones and twos.

Camp was pitched at the foot of the kopje, sufficient rain water being
found in the elephant baths for all our requirements. The next morning
I climbed the little hill in pouring rain. From its top I had a good
view of the Murua to the south, while to the north a river was visible
flowing northwards. On its banks were large verdant green flats which
might have been as smooth as tennis lawns but for the fact that they were
thickly speckled with black dots which the glasses and then the telescope
showed to be the backs and heads of scores of bull elephant. The grass
consequently was young swamp grass and about six or seven feet high. The
big tripod telescope showed some wonderful ivory, and I have never seen
before or since so many _old_ bull elephant in one place. Bunches of
young herd bulls were comparatively common, but here were numbers of aged
bulls.

Knowing how all naked men hate rain, I left Pyjalé in camp and took
instead a well-clad boy whose feet had worn off earlier in the
journey, and who had since been recuperating at the base camp. Nothing
takes condition off a naked African like heavy rain. Strong as their
constitutions are they wilt when constantly wet once the natural oil of
the skin is pierced.

Striking straight for the swamps through the thorny flats we came out
of some very dense wait-a-bit almost under the trunk of a single old
monster. I thought of trying a shot up through the palate for the brain,
but wisely refrained and withdrew quickly a few paces while the old bull
stared straight at us, still unsuspicious, and affording an easy frontal
shot.

Passing on, we were presently on the edge of the green swamp. And now
how different the smooth-looking lawn appeared; huge broad-leaved grass,
still young, but seven or eight feet high in places. While all the dry
country was still parched after the long dry season, here on this rich
flood-land the grass had two or three months’ start. Hence the numbers of
elephant. But why only bulls? That is known to them only. I had a grand
day among them in spite of the grass. Soaked to the skin, the temperature
just suited the white man, and I returned washed out but happy to a
comfortable tent, hot bath, dry towels and pyjamas, food ready and good
enough for keen appetite and the best of service. Off with wet and
mud-covered things, dump them on the ground-sheet; good boys are there
ready to pick them up, wash them and dry them by the huge camp-fire.
Fresh clothes every day—what real solid comfort one has in the bush! No
laundry bills to face and no clothes to be careful of. Creases in the
trousers not required below the knee, and the harder the usage the softer
the wear. Having tasted Heaven already I think I must be booked for the
other place. Ten good tails was the count for the day.

Mounting Look-out Hill next morning, no elephant was visible, so off went
the cutting-out gang with their axes, etc., and my yesterday’s companion
as guide to the slain. In the evening they returned with some magnificent
ivory, but having found only nine carcases. Having the tails of ten, I
thought they had failed to find the tenth, and I turned in, meaning to
show them it on the morrow. I remembered now on looking at the ivory that
the missing animal had exceptionally long tusks. I had measured them with
my forearm, and three and a half lengths had they protruded from the lip.
Resolved to find him, we searched the whole area of that swamp, but
nowhere could he be found. At last I came to the spot from which I had
fired, as I supposed, the fatal shot. After a little search I found the
empty ·275 case. There a few yards away should have been the elephant.
Here was where he lay on his side; grass flattened, mark of under tusk
in mud, all complete. But no elephant could be found. It was a case of
stun and nothing else. And there on those plains there probably wanders
to this day an elephant distinguished from other tailless elephants by
having had his tail painlessly amputated by human hand and Sheffield
cutlery while under the influence of a unique anæsthetic. Meanwhile I had
lost two grand tusks. One of the other bulls had a single tooth only,
but almost made up for this fraudulent shortage by weighing in 134 lb.
for his single tooth. The weight for the nine bulls was 1,463 lb., all
first-rate stuff, and the value then in London somewhere about £877.

After some fairly successful hunting in the neighbourhood it was time to
move on to the wonderful mountain. Its wonder had somewhat eased off by
our close contact. Indeed, it now appeared as just an ordinary-looking
African hill, extremely sterile and forbidding-looking. Although from
a distance it had appeared as an isolated peak, on closer acquaintance
there were seen to be not a few foot-hills of insignificant height. It
was on the spur of one of these that we met with Abyssinians. As we
headed across the plains men were seen scuttling up the rocks, and my
glasses showed mules tethered some way up. We were therefore about to
encounter our first Abyssinians. Everyone was in a twitter. Habashi have
a truly awful reputation for nameless atrocities in those parts, and
had it lain with them my safari would have chosen instant flight rather
than come within rifle-shot of those mounted terrors. For my part, I
felt tolerably all right, as the glasses showed no sign of the enemy
being in any force. And then I thought that if I were in their place and
saw a safari of our size marching resolutely towards me I should feel
pretty anxious. This thought comforted me to such an extent that I did
a foolish thing. I was at that time trying to get a really good pair
of oryx horns, and when almost under the noses of the Abyssinians lying
in the rocks up got a good oryx and I let drive. Too late, the thought
that the enemy might think I was firing at them flashed through my mind.
I rushed up to the fallen buck and seemed busy with it. As a matter of
fact, we subsequently found that the great, fierce, bold Abyssinians
were in a much greater funk than we were. We shouted in Arabic that
we were friends, and invited them to come down. We tried everything
without success, and at last camped peacefully beneath them. As evening
was drawing on and they had not yet come I strolled up to the mules
without arms in case they might be scared. Then I sat down and smoked,
hoping they would join me. But no, all I could see of them was their
heads among the rocks. I went slowly towards them, and when I was quite
close I found the poor devils were literally shivering. Good Heavens! I
thought, what devilment have you been up to, to be in such a state? It
was only by sitting down with them in their funk holes and chewing coffee
berries which they offered that they could be persuaded to come forth.
But at last they came to camp and settled down. It was impossible to talk
with them. They knew no Arabic, and we knew no Abyssinian. However, we
made out that they were ten days’ ride from their base and were out for
elephant. Slaves, in other words, I suspect. They made me a present of a
goodish young mule with saddle and bridle complete and a French Daudeter
rifle, while I gave them in return a fine tusk. We parted, mutually
relieved to see the last of each other.

[Illustration: FROM THE LOOK-OUT HILL.

“_The next morning I climbed the little hill in pouring rain. From its
top I had a good view of the Murua to the south, while to the north a
river was visible flowing northwards. On its banks were large verdant
green flats which might have been as smooth as tennis lawns but for the
fact that they were thickly speckled with black dots which the glasses
and then the telescope showed to be the backs and heads of scores of bull
elephants._”]

[Illustration: THE “ELEPHANT CEMETERY.”]

At the end of a short march across lava-dust plains we reached the
wonderful mountain Murua Akipi. Skirting the base of it, we found a fine,
well-worn elephant road, which we followed for some miles, until a branch
led us up a gully to a little level plain surrounded by rocky lava-strewn
hill-slopes of a most forbidding description. For a few yards in the
centre of the plain there was some very short and verdant green grass
dotted here and there by the white bleached skulls of elephant while
half-buried leg bones showed their huge round knuckle ends. In the centre
of this green oasis were three pools of intensely clear green water. All
round the edges of the grass there were glistening lines of white powder,
evidently high-water marks. I tasted the water; it was certainly very
bitter.

Here was what native information called an elephant cemetery, and at
first sight I thought it was. But on looking round and thinking it over
a bit I was first struck by the fact that there were no recent bones
or skulls. Again, all the skulls seemed to have undergone about the
same amount of weathering. I talked it over with Pyjalé, and he told
me that he had heard from the old men who had had it from others that
once there came a dreadful drought upon the land; that so scarce had
water become that springs of the nature in question were the only ones
left running, and that they then became so strong that animals and men
drinking of their waters immediately died. Even now as we drank it in a
normal season the water was very bitter, although it appeared to have no
after-effect beyond acting as a slight aperient. Natron is, I believe,
the impregnation. So much for the elephant cemeteries.

Still skirting the base of Murua Akipi on well-worn elephant paths, we
next day sighted zebra high up on the mountain side. Halting the safari I
went to investigate and found a pool of fresh water, sufficiently large
for several days. Here we camped, and from this spot I did the mountain.
From its top away to the north-east could be seen a distant line of hills
which I took to be Abyssinia. To the N.W. I could trace the course of the
river which had afforded such good results in elephant. It meandered away
through huge open plains until lost in the distance. I imagine it must
flow into the Akobo or Pibor. At the time of which I write the maps were
a blank as regards this region.

With my eyes well skinned for gold I washed the gravel in the pot-holes
of the stream beds but without result. Soon tiring of this prospecting I
began to search the surrounding country for game. With clear atmosphere
and good glasses all kinds of game were seen. The dry lava-dust plains
were covered with herds of oryx, ostrich, giraffe and gazelle. In the
thorn belts elephant were seen. To find game I used prismatic binoculars,
and to examine the animals more closely I had a large telescope on a
tripod. With this I could almost weigh the tusks of elephant seven or
eight miles distant. It was most fascinating to watch the animals through
this glass. Sometimes rhino would be seen love-making. The inclination
was to spend too much time at the eye-piece. But what dances that glass
led me. I would watch two or three heavy old bull elephant feeding slowly
about. It looked absurdly easy to go down to the plain and walk straight
to them. But this I knew was not so, and I would try to memorise the
country which lay between me and the animals. But however I tried it was
always most difficult to find them once the flat was reached. Everything
altered and looked different.

My hunting round Murua Akipi was so successful that I found my safari
already too heavily laden to attempt the following of the north-flowing
river. Only in these two particulars—the presence of large elephant and
Abyssinians—had the wondermongers been right about Murua Akipi. Gold was
not found. The deadly waters were merely natron springs. The elephant
cemeteries had been cemeteries during one exceptionally dry season only,
or so it seemed.

For a hunter well equipped with food stuffs a hunt of three months’
duration in the country surrounding Murua Akipi would have shown
astonishing results. As it was we carried with us flour traded on Mt.
Elgon, some 600 miles south of us. Of course everyone was on half
rations, that is every boy received a condensed milk tin half filled with
banana flour for the one day with the addition of as much elephant meat
and fat or buck meat as he cared to take. In addition to this everyone
got salt. The condition of all was magnificent. My food was arranged for
in the following manner. There were four milk cows constantly in milk.
As they went dry they were exchanged for others from the native herds.
Two of these cows, with their calves, accompanied me wherever I went;
while two rested at the base camp in Dodose. Hence I always had milk, the
staple of all the native tribes. In time I came to drink it as they did,
that is sour. Mixed with raw blood as they took it, I could never master,
although it then becomes a perfect food I am convinced. Fresh milk as we
drink it at home is regarded by all pastoral tribes in the light of a
slow but sure poison. They all declare that the drinking of milk in its
fresh state leads to anæmia and loss of power. Under no conditions will
they drink it fresh, but will always stand it in a calabash where it soon
sours.

My two cows were milked night and morning. The evening milking was put
to stand in a calabash and was sour by morning. The calabash was carried
by a boy and I drank it about 9 a.m. after marching from about 6 a.m.
This I found did me well throughout the day without anything else, and
no matter how hard the travelling. It seemed a perfect food. One did not
get thirsty as after a meat meal, neither did one become soon hungry as
after a farinaceous meal. Meanwhile that morning’s milk was carried in a
calabash all day and was “ripe” for the evening’s meal. Then round the
camp fire I would frizzle dry buck-meat in the embers.

A boy’s feeding arrangements were as follows: He would wake up about 2
a.m., having slept since about 8 p.m. On his camp fire he would warm up a
chunk of smoked elephant or buck meat. This he would not touch until the
first halt in the day’s march, generally about 9 a.m. He would then have
this first meal, consisting entirely of smoked beef. After that he would
perform his hard day’s work. In the evening at sundown his flour, if on
half rations, would be made into thin gruel with fat added and a pinch
of wild tamarind to “mustard” it. When on full rations thick porridge
stiffened _off_ the fire with raw flour would be made, after that more
smoked meat. Here again absolutely fresh meat was never eaten, always the
smoked or dried meat.

As regards the thirst-resisting qualities of the grain and meat diet
as opposed to the milk and meat diet there was no comparison. Pyjalé,
who shared my milk, once went three days without either food or drink,
whereas a grain-eating boy who became lost was rescued just in time after
only thirty-six hours without water.

[Illustration: THE CAMP CHRONICLER.]

[Illustration: ABYSSINIAN SLAVERS.]

After consulting the donkey-headman it was decided that we had almost as
much ivory as we could carry. Many of the tusks were too long for donkeys
and should have been taken by porters. It was decided to return to our
base through untouched country. The news was received with shouts of joy.
It is wonderful how one comes to regard the base camp as home. Whereas,
on our way up, the camps had been rather gloomy—disasters having been
prophesied for this expedition—now all was joy. The safari chronicler
became once more his joyous self and his impromptu verse became longer
and longer each night. The chronicler’s job is to render into readily
chanted metre all the important doings of the safari and its members. It
is a kind of diary and although not written down is almost as permanent,
when committed to the tenacious memories of natives. Each night, in the
hour between supper and bedtime, the chronicler gets up and blows a
vibrating blast on his waterbuck horn. This is the signal for silence.
All is still. Then begins the chant of the safari’s doings, verse by
verse, with chorus between. It is extraordinarily interesting but very
difficult to understand. The arts of allusion and suggestion are used
most cleverly. In fact, the whole thing is wonderful. Verse by verse the
history rolls out on the night, no one forgetting a single word. When
the well-known part is finished, bringing the narrative complete up to
and including yesterday, there is a pause of expectation—the new verse
is about to be launched. Out it comes without hesitation or fault, all
to-day’s events compressed into four lines of clever metric _précis_. If
humorous its completion is greeted with a terrific outburst of laughter
and then it is sung by the whole lot in chorus, followed by a flare-up
of indescribable noises; drums, pipes, horns and human voices. And then
to bed, while those keen-eyed camp askaris mount guard; although they
cannot hit a mountain by daylight they fire _and kill_ by night with a
regularity that always leaves me dumb with astonishment. Remember they
are using ·450 bore bullets in ·577 bore barrels, and explain it who can.
They call it “medicine.”

We traversed some queer country on our return to Dodose. All kinds were
met with. We went thirty days on end without seeing an elephant, and in
the succeeding four days I killed forty-four bulls. A lioness came within
a foot of catching a boy and was shot. The dried skins of elephant were
found occupying much the same position as when filled with flesh. Now
they contained nothing but the loose bones, all the meat having been
eaten away by maggots and ants, which had entered through nature’s ports.
Why the skin had not rotted as in other parts I could but ascribe to the
dryness of the atmosphere. Finally, we staggered home, heavily laden with
ivory, to our base camp.

That safari was one of my most successful. We “shuka’d,” or went down
country, with over 14,000 lbs. of ivory—all excellent stuff.

VII

THROUGH THE SUDD OF THE GELO RIVER

At the time of which I write, about 1908, the wild countries lying around
the western and south-western base of the Abyssinian plateau seemed to us
to present the most favourable field of operations. And as the boundaries
had not yet been delimited between Abyssinia and the Sudan on the one
hand and Abyssinia and Uganda on the other, we felt that there would be
more scope for our activities in that region than elsewhere. The object
was elephant hunting.

In order to reach this country we were obliged to cross Abyssinia. We
took steamer to Djibuti on the Red Sea, ascending thence by railway to
the then railhead, Dirré Doua, and then by horse, camel and mule to
Addis Abeba, the capital. Here, the only trouble we had was from our own
legation. Our representative regarded every English traveller in the
light of being a potential source of trouble to him personally, and was
at little pains to conceal his thoughts. Luckily, we had been recommended
financially to the bank, and this fact smoothed our path. Apparently,
in these matters the main question is whether one is the possessor of a
few hundred pounds or not. If so, zeal in helping the traveller on is
forthcoming; but if not, every obstacle is put in the way of his ever
making any progress. In one of our colonies I was once asked bluntly by
the Government representative if I had any money. Of course, the poor
man was merely trying to do his duty; but before I could think of this
I had replied, “Precious little.” Throughout my stay in his province he
regarded me with the gravest suspicion.

Along the route from Addis Abeba to Goré in the west we were much
pestered for presents by the Abyssinian military governors. We had
been warned about this and were supplied with some automatic pistols.
They invariably turned these down and tried to get our rifles, but as
invariably accepted the pistols. These gentry have to be reckoned with,
as it is within their power to hold up the traveller by simply declaring
the road to be dangerous.

At Goré we came under the rule of the famous chief Ras Tasama. He
reigned over the whole of the western part of Abyssinia, tolerating no
interference from the Emperor, but paying to him a considerable tribute.
This tribute was mainly composed of slaves, gold dust and ivory. The dust
was gathered annually from the river beds, after the rains, and by the
subject races. We were informed that Goré’s quota amounted to 4,000 oz.
Ivory was obtained from the negro tribes living in the lowlands below the
Abyssinian plateau. One chief with whom we came in contact was required
to provide 300 tusks annually, and apparently could do so easily. It
will give an idea of the immense numbers of elephant in the country
when I mention that this chief had under him quite a modest little
tribe, occupying a country which could be traversed in four days of easy
marching.

Slaves were raided from tribes which could not or would not provide
ivory. We gathered that these raids were extremely brutal affairs, for
which the Abyssinian habits of eating raw meat and drinking rawer alcohol
seemed peculiarly to fit them, and that just before our arrival at Goré
a raid had resulted in the capture of 10,000 men, women and children.
This figure is probably an exaggeration, but it was evident from the
accounts of witnesses whom we questioned that the numbers must have been
very considerable. They said that the mules, with children lashed on
them like faggots, required half the day to pass through the town. The
only sign of slaving that we ourselves saw was when we met a body of
mounted Abyssinians guarding some wild-looking natives from some distant
land. Even if their patient phlegm and air of despair had not drawn our
attention to them, the fact that they were completely nude, very black,
and wore ornaments such as necklaces made up of countless little round
discs of ostrich eggshell, otherwise unseen in Abyssinia, would have done
so. We were spared the sight of children.

From information gathered, it now became necessary to obtain
permission from Ras Tasama to proceed off the beaten track for the
purpose of hunting elephant. So far we had followed the well beaten
Addis-Gambela-Khartoum track. We stated our wishes at the first interview
with the Ras. He was an imposing-looking old man, short of stature, but
with the expression of power, authority and dignity so often found in
outstanding Africans. Accompanied by our one-eared interpreter, who had
lost the other as a punishment for having sided with the Italians in the
war, we were received in the hall of his house, a two-storeyed building
of oval shape and a fine specimen of Abyssinian architecture. The
usual compliments passed between us and the customary present was duly
presented by us. It took the form, on this occasion, of a case of liqueur
brandy and a little banker’s bag containing fifty golden sovereigns. As
is usual in Africa, the gifts were received without demonstration. We
then proceeded to state our business, through our interpreter. We were
elephant hunters and wished to have the Ras’s permission to hunt and his
advice on where to go. Drinks were served. Our choice was old _tedg_
(honey-mead), the national drink. It was clear and sparkling, very good
and rather like champagne. The Ras told us it was nine years old. He
himself preferred _araki_, which is almost pure alcohol flavoured with
aniseed. He then remarked that he knew of a country where there were many
elephant. This remark we thought distinctly promising, but he made no
further reference to the subject of so much importance to us. The visit
ended.

On our return to camp we asked our interpreter what we should do now.
He said we would get what we wanted, but that we should give the Ras
another present. We looked about and finally decided to give him one of
our sporting rifles. Next day, after arranging to call on him, we duly
presented this beautiful weapon together with a lot of cartridges. More
hope was doled out to us, without anything definite happening. And so
on it went for three weeks. By that time the Ras had become possessed
of eight mules, fifteen camels (he asked for these), several firearms
and sundry cases of liquor, besides the presents first mentioned. We
were then at the end of our resources and in desperation. This the Ras
probably knew as well as we did, for at long last the desired permission
was given. But only verbally and without witnesses. Once he had given his
word, however, the thing was thoroughly well done. A guide was provided
to take us to the hunting grounds. This man not only guided us, but
as long as we remained in country owing allegiance to the Ras we were
provided with everything the country afforded.

After descending the steep edge of the Abyssinian Plateau we arrived at
the rolling plains, several thousands of feet lower and very much hotter
than Goré. Mosquitoes were to be reckoned with once more. The natives
were now very black, naked, Nilotic and pagan, but paid tribute to Ras
Tasama in ivory.

The guide furnished us by Ras Tasama took us to the chief of these
people. He was a great swell and wore an Abyssinian robe. While at his
village he fêted us and our Abyssinians, and in the night came secretly
to ask if we wished to buy ivory. We replied guardedly that much depended
on the price asked. He then sent for a tusk and we were overjoyed to see
that the ivory of the country was large and soft. We asked if that was
all he had. He said he had more. Could we see it? Yes, and he led us to
a stockade where he had a considerable amount of tusks hidden in a hole
and covered with mats. One was very large—about 150 lb., I would say.
We then asked him what he wanted for his ivory. “Guineea,” he said. It
took us some time before it dawned on us. He wanted guineas, as English
or Egyptian sovereigns are called. We were astonished, and wondered
how he was acquainted with them. It appeared that at Gambela there was
a Greek trader who apparently bought ivory and it was there that our
friend had dealt in sovereigns. But of their true value he was ignorant,
evidently confusing them with some smaller coin as he asked for an
impossible number for a tusk. We knew that this chief was in high favour
with Ras Tasama and that he paid tribute of 300 tusks annually. This
fact, combined with the sight before our eyes, seemed to denote enormous
numbers of elephant somewhere, and yet we had seen no tracks so far. We
asked where all this ivory came from. The chief smiled in a superior way,
telling us to wait and he would show us so many elephant that we would be
afraid to look upon them, let alone hunt them.

He was right about their numbers, for a few days after leaving his
village we came upon the trail of a roaming herd. The well-beaten part of
this trail was literally several hundreds of yards wide. I am afraid to
estimate how many animals must have been in that herd.

Although it was several days old I wanted to follow it. I took it to be a
migration of sorts. But the natives said no, there was no need to. There
were plenty more. And, sure enough, they were right. We arrived at a
small village on the banks of the Gelo.

Looking up our map we found that the Gelo River from Lake Tata
down-stream was marked as unknown. Accordingly, we made enquiries among
the natives about the country down-stream, and were told that there were
no natives for many days, that the whole country was under water at this
season and that no one would go.

This was good enough for us. We opened negotiations with the chiefs for
some dug-out canoes, which we obtained for various sundries. They were
poor carriers and very crank, so I lashed them together in rafts of three.

It was now necessary to deal with our followers. All the Abyssinians
would have to return as they were daily becoming more fever-stricken.
With them would go the mules. The guide rightly considered he had done
his job. There remained four of my old Swahili followers from British
East Africa, who had been shipped, through Thos. Cook and Son, from
Mombassa to Djibuti, and four Yemen Arabs we had picked up on our way
through. The Swahilis were old hands, had been everywhere with me for
about ten years, and cared not a rap where we went. The Arabs were new,
but splendid fellows. They hated the thought of recrossing Abyssinia by
themselves and were, therefore, obliged to go on with us.

On loading up the flotilla it was found impossible to carry all our
stores. We made a huge bonfire of the surplus, and I well remember how
well the ham and bacon burned. We regretted burning all these good
things, but, as a matter of fact, we were better without them. Laying
in a stock of native grain we pushed off into the current and swung
down-stream.

It was the rainy season and the discomforts we suffered were sometimes
acute. Almost immediately on quitting the chief’s village we entered a
region where hard ground rose only a few inches above water level. Great
areas were entirely covered by water, only the tops of the 12-foot grass
showing above it. Whenever we turned one of the many bends of the river,
and these were hard banks, there would be a continuous line of splashes,
which advanced with us as the crocodiles plunged in. The waters teemed
with fish, especially the lung-fish, which continued rising night and day
to breathe, as we supposed.

In this swamp country every night was a time of horror, and camping a
perfect nightmare. Well before the sun was down the mosquitoes appeared
in myriads. Luckily our boys had each been provided with a mosquito net.
These nets I had procured with a watertight canvas roof so that they also
acted as small tents. They could be slung between sticks or paddles stuck
in the ground. Without these nets no man could long survive the quite
serious loss of blood and sleep; for, to add to our troubles, firewood
was non-existent. In the hot, sweltering nights, when it was not raining,
the moon would appear almost obliterated by the clouds of mosquitoes
hanging to the net, while the massed hum seemed to be continuous. And yet
there was no fever among us, presumably because of the lack of infection
sources. Several times no dry spot could be found and we stuck it out as
best we could on the canoes.

Of game we saw nothing except elephant. No buck or buffalo nor even hippo
in that desolate region. How numerous elephant were I cannot say, as we
never hunted them unless we actually saw them from the canoes. Low on the
water as we were and with high grass everywhere, it was necessary for the
animals to be within a few yards of the bank in order to come within our
view. Hunting thus we killed some 30 bulls as we drifted along. Allowing
that we killed half we saw, that would mean that 60 bull elephant crossed
our narrow path at the moment we were there or thereabouts. If the region
were only a few miles deep on either bank and were frequented on a
similar scale, it would indicate an enormous number of elephant. We took
little heed of cows, but of these quite a hundred came within our view.

All our boys being Mohammedans, we two whites were the only eaters of
elephant meat. Luckily for the others, fish were easily caught.

At one place where we killed elephant we found a raised piece of ground
perhaps three or four feet above the water. It even had three trees
on it. We were simply delighted to reach shore again, and as we had
killed six good bulls that day the camp was merry—at any rate, the white
portion of it. As we were obliged to wait here three or four days for
the elephant to rot before drawing the tusks, we pitched our tents and
made everything comfortable. In the night a terrific rain storm blew
up, and when it was at its height red ants invaded us. My companion was
got first, and had to vacate his bed and tent. I could hear him cursing
between the thunder claps. Presently he came into my tent, quite naked,
as they had got into his pyjamas. I told him to lay a trail of paraffin
all round the tent, while I proceeded to tuck my net well in all round
me. As he was laying the trail the rising water came rushing in, bearing
with it thousands of desperate ants. They swarmed up everything they
touched. I lay, as I thought, secure, my companion fled, slapping and
brushing his naked legs and cursing dreadfully.

For some time the enemy failed to penetrate my fine-mesh net, but when
they did get me they all got me at once. Without two thoughts I was out
in the pouring rain and throwing off my pyjamas. After brushing off the
fiery hot devils I found they were mounting my legs just as fast. My
companion yelled through the storm to get up on an up-turned bucket. I
found one at last and mounted. And thus we rode it out.

There was bad “medicine” in that camp, for next day my companion got
gassed when he drew a tusk, and was violently sick; and while carrying
the tusk back to camp stepped on a huge fish, while wading through mud
and water, which threw him headlong into it.

We were now obliged to cast gear in order to carry ivory. Spare axes,
tools and camp gear went first, and finally provisions and tents. At last
we could take nothing more aboard and float. We left fine ivory standing
on the banks. We had formed the idea of returning, properly equipped,
for this inland navigation, and headed down-stream with about two inches
freeboard. Our sluggish Gelo bore us slowly into the sluggish Pibor which
pushed us gently into the livelier Sobat. On our way down this river to
the Nile we were so short of food and the usual wherewithal to buy it
that we were obliged to part with one of our tusks for native grain,
fowls, and a couple of sheep. We camped frequently by the villages of the
Nuers, and were astonished to learn on our arrival at the Nile that we
were then at war with this tribe.

I am inclined to think that we were rather lucky to have come through the
sudd region of the Gelo so easily. At one place the open channel divided
equally into two, and we debated which one we should follow. We tossed,
and the paddle decided on the right-hand channel. We followed it, but
never saw where the other channel rejoined.

After reaching the more open waters of the Sobat the lightest breeze
raised sufficient lop on the water to come aboard with our dangerously
low freeboard. As it was, we were caught about mid-stream once, and
before we could reach the bank the whole flotilla settled down. Luckily,
we were only a few yards from shore and in about ten feet of water. Our
boys were magnificent, and got everything up while we plugged shots into
the water to keep off crocs. Had we foundered further out, the whole of
our ivory and rifles, etc., would have been lost.

The hunting of elephant in this swamp region was of the severest
description. That is the reason of their congregating there in such
numbers, I think. The ground was too rotten for ponies or mules, even
should they survive the myriads of flies and mosquitoes. The grass was
mostly the 12-foot stuff with razor-like edges and countless, almost
invisible spines, which stick into exposed limbs. Locomotion for humans
was only possible when following elephant tracks. When within even a
few paces of the animals it was generally impossible to see them. I
used to mount on a boy’s shoulder and fire from there, but the stance
was so wobbly and the view so obstructed by grass tops as to make it
most unsatisfactory. Having a large telescope mounted on a stout tripod
I fitted a tiny board to fix on the tripod top, and found it most
satisfactory; although the jump from my rifle, slight as it was, knocked
me off once or twice.

On this safari the health of everyone was excellent, considering the hard
work and poor food. We whites were troubled somewhat with indigestion,
caused I think by our native-grain flour having got wet, and fermented
a bit. There was practically no fever, and my tough old Swahilis came
through without turning a hair. The Arabs, however, lost condition.

[Illustration: A SHOT FROM THE SHOULDERS OF A TALL NATIVE: A VERY WOBBLY
METHOD.]

[Illustration: TELESCOPE TRIPOD AS STAND IN HIGH GRASS.]

VIII

THE LADO ENCLAVE

At the time of which I write the Enclave de Lado comprised the country
bordering the western bank of the Upper Nile from Lado on the north to
Mahazi in the south. It was leased to Leopold, King of the Belgians,
for the duration of his life and for six months after his death. This
extension of the lease was popularly supposed to be for the purpose of
enabling the occupiers to withdraw and remove their gear.

While the King was still alive and the Enclave occupied by the Congo
authorities, I stepped ashore one day at Lado, the chief administrative
post in the northern part. Luckily for me, the Chef de Zone was there,
and I immediately announced my business, the hunting of elephant. The
Chef was himself a great shikari, and told me he held the record for the
(then) Congo Free State, with a bag of forty-seven, I think it was. He
was most kind and keenly interested in my project, and promised to help
in every way he could.

As regards permission to hunt, he told me that if I merely wished to
shoot one or two elephants, he could easily arrange that on the spot,
but that if I wanted to hunt elephant extensively, I should require a
permit from the Governor, who lived at Boma, at the mouth of the Congo.
The price of this permit was £20, and it was good for five months in one
year. It was quite unlimited and, of course, was a gift to anyone who
knew the game. The Belgians, however, seemed to think that the demanding
of 500 frs. for a permit to hunt such dangerous animals was in the nature
of pure extortion; they regarded as mad anyone who paid such a sum for
such a doubtful privilege.

I was, naturally, very eager to secure such a permit, especially when the
Chef told me of the uncountable herds of elephants he had seen in the
interior. By calculation it was found that the permit, if granted, would
arrive at Lado in good time for the opening of the season, three months
hence. I deposited twenty golden sovereigns with the Treasury, copied out
a flowery supplication to the Governor for a permit, which my friend the
Chef drafted for me, and there was nothing more to do but wait.

My visit to Lado was my first experience of Belgian domestic
arrangements. The Chef de Zone lived entirely apart from the other
officers, but with this exception they all messed together. The Chef
himself was most exclusive; he gave me to understand, in fact, he
regarded his subordinate whites as “scum.” He gave me many cryptic
warnings to have no dealings with them, all of which were rather lost
on me then, as I had never hitherto come in contact with white men just
like that. When, therefore, I was invited to dine at the mess I accepted,
little knowing what I was in for.

The mess-room was a large room, or rather a large thatched roof standing
on many pillars of sun-dried brick. In place of walls nothing more
substantial than mosquito netting interposed itself between the diners
and the gaze of the native multitude, comprising the station garrison,
and so on. This system of architecture suits the climate admirably,
its sole drawback being its publicity. For when the inmates of such a
structure have the playful dinner habits of our forefathers, without
their heads, and try to drink each other under the table, and when,
moreover, the casualties are removed by native servants from that
ignominious position one after the other, speechless, prostrate and
puking, naturally the whole affair becomes a kind of “movie” show, with
sounds added, for the native population. When, for instance, the Chef
de Post, whose image is intimately connected in most of the spectators’
minds with floggings, ambitiously tries to mount the table, fails and
falls flat, the “thunders of applause” of our newspapers best describe
the reception of his downfall by the audience.

At the dinner in question we started well. One member of the mess
contributed five dozen of bottled beer. Another a case of whisky. A
demi-john or two of the rough ration table wine rendered somewhat
alcoholic by the vagaries of wine in the Tropics was also available; but
the effort of the evening was when a sporting Count produced a bottle of
Curaçao. We sat down.

Directly in front of me, in the usual position, I found some plates, a
knife, fork and spoon. But on three sides I was surrounded by eggs. There
were, I think, three dozen of them. On looking round I observed that
each diner was similarly provided. Then soup arrived, very strong, good
and liberally flavoured with garlic. It was made from buffalo killed by
the Post’s native hunters. Meanwhile I noticed my neighbours handing out
their eggs to the boys and giving instructions regarding them. I was at a
loss. Hitherto I had regarded my eggs as being boiled and ready to eat,
all the time mildly wondering how I was to eat so many. Then I caught the
word omelette pass my neighbour’s lips as he handed a dozen or two to the
boy. I tumbled to it. They were raw and you simply handed them out as you
fancied, to be turned into fried, poached, boiled eggs or omelettes. What
a capital idea! I set aside a dozen for an omelette, a half dozen to be
fried, and a half dozen to be poached. I thought that if I got through
that lot I should have enough.

The next dish appeared and was placed before the senior officer at the
head of the table. It looked to me like a small mountain of mashed
beetroot. Into its sugar-loaf apex the officer dug a large wooden salad
spoon, turning in one rotary motion its perfect sugar-loaf shape into
that of an extinct volcano. With deft and practised hand he then broke
egg after egg, raw, into the yawning crater. His spare dozen or so were
quickly swallowed up and more were supplied. As well as I could judge,
the contents of the eggs were in no case examined. To anyone acquainted
with the average African egg this means a lot.

On to the sulphur-splotched and quivering mass pepper and salt were
liberally poured; then vinegar and a vigorous stirring prepared it
for presentation to the one bewildered and suffering guest. I took a
moderate helping of the red crater slopes, avoiding the albuminous
morass, wondering how you handled it anyhow and what would happen if
you broke the containing walls. I watched the dish go the rounds with
great interest, hoping someone would be too bold with the large spoon,
prematurely burst the crater and be engulfed in the ensuing flood. But,
alas! with marvellous dexterity man after man hoicked out a plateful of
the nauseating stuff without accident. They were used to it.

Now I tried a taste of the minced beetroot lying before me. It wasn’t
beetroot at all. It was raw buffalo flesh. I did not like it awfully.
Why, I do not know. I have always admired, theoretically, men who eat raw
meat. When I saw the Abyssinians eating their meat raw I did not admire
them particularly, and now when I saw the Belgians eating it raw I did
not seem to admire them either. And yet when I read of Sandow and the
crack boxers eating raw meat I admired them. Perhaps it is the sight of
men eating raw meat which stops the admiration, or, perhaps, the men who
can safely eat raw meat must be admirable to begin with. Anyhow, this lot
revolted me, to the complete extinction of my usually robust appetite.
It only recovered when cake was served up with syrup and you poured wine
over it, an excellent sweet.

Drinking had meanwhile been going steadily on. I would say that by the
time the cake came on each man had absorbed two litres of 18 per cent.
wine. I was diligently pressed to drink, but managed to avoid more than
my share. I excused myself by saying that I was not used to it, and had
rather a light and unreliable head anyhow. As this was really a fact,
I was rather astonished to notice that already some of the diners were
beginning to show unmistakable signs of deep drinking. I subsequently
discovered that while there was liquor in the station the drinking of it
went on more or less night and day.

Towards the end of the meal some bottles of fine wine were produced and
ran their course. After dinner beer was produced and diligently dealt
with as a preliminary to the drinking of the case of whisky. This latter
was regarded as serious drinking, requiring careful preparation. I have
noticed the same curious attitude towards whisky in Frenchmen also. They
affect to regard it as a frightfully potent and insidious drink. One
will often see an absinthe-sodden toper take a ludicrously small tot
of whisky, drowning it with a quart of water on the score of its great
strength.

They began to taunt me with not drinking level. Stupid remarks were made
about Englishmen and their inability to drink. I helped myself to a
moderately large peg of whisky—which was good—and drank.

Now, they took this act to be a direct challenge. Here was a miserable
Englishman taking far more whisky and far less water than they themselves
were in the habit of taking. It was enough. The man to whom I passed
the bottle had to go one better, taking a large peg; and so it went
on progressing round the table until, about half-way, the bottle was
finished. More were soon brought, uncorked and placed ready. When it
came to a man opposite me I could see his hand tremble as with pale
determination he poured out what he believed to be the strongest liquor
in the world. With shouts of defiance the second bottle was drained,
having passed up about four places. From noisy drinking the affair passed
into a disorderly debauch. Diner after diner fell and was removed, until
there remained seated but two men and myself. One was a Dane of fine
physique, and the other was the Belgian Count. We looked at each other
and smiled. We all thought we were strictly sober, but the Count, at any
rate, was mistaken; for, when he rose to fetch another bottle of Curaçao
from his boxes, he, too, joined the casualties. The Dane and I carried
him to his bed, found his keys in his trouser pocket, unlocked his boxes
and found the liquor, soberly drank the contents round the corpse of the
fallen and toasted the Count with the dregs of his excellent stuff as the
sun came blazing over the horizon and the station sweepers got busy.
That Dane was hard at work an hour afterwards.

I had now some two months to while away somehow until my hunting permit
should arrive. I took a flying trip down through Uganda and got together
a fine lot of Wanyamweze porters ready for the hunting when it should
begin. I took sixty of these boys, as I was pretty confident of getting
the permit, and quite confident of getting elephant, anyhow. I arrived
back at Lado and was glad to hear from the Treasury man that he had the
permit for me all in order. He pointed out to me that the permit stated
that the hunting of elephants was not to begin until the middle of May.
It was then March, and here was I with a large safari and everything
ready to begin. I was wondering what to do about it when whom should I
see but my friend the Treasurer. I pointed out my difficulty, which he
quite saw. He said it was unfortunate, very, shaking his head and looking
thoughtfully away. The true significance of this pretty gesture was lost
on me at first, and he had to put it pretty broadly to me that, if he
were squared, it would be possible to begin right away. I did not do so,
and thereby made a bitter enemy. One of the considerations dissuading me
from oiling this gentleman’s palm was that it seemed to me that, if I
squared one, I should have to square all, a somewhat too costly business.

Passing over to the English side of the Nile, I occupied myself as well
as I could obtaining my two elephants allowed on my Uganda licence from
the sporting herd of cow elephant which then haunted the Gondokoro
region. This cow herd was even then notorious for chasing travellers
on the Nimule-Gondokoro road, and had killed several natives and a
gun-bearer of the D.C. who was trying to scare them from some native
gardens. I fell in with them only a few miles from the post and managed
to kill two passable herd bulls. One of these, shot in the brain, fell
upon a large calf, pinning it to the ground in such a fashion that
neither could the calf release itself nor could I and my boy help it
do so. Nothing could be done without more help, so I sent the boy off
to the camp for all hands. Meanwhile I waited under some trees 100
yds. from the dead bull and living calf. The latter was crying in a
distressing way, and suddenly the cow herd came rushing along back to
it. They surrounded it and crowded all about it while some of them
made short rushes here and there, trunks and ears tossing about, with
plenty of angry trumpeting. Now, I thought, we shall see a proof of the
wonderful intelligence of the elephant. If elephants really do help off
their wounded comrades, as is so often and so affectingly described by
hunters, surely they will release a trapped youngster. All they have to
do is to give a lift with their powerful trunks and the trick is done.
Nothing of the sort happened. After a couple of hours of commotion and
stamping about all round the spot my boys arrived, and it was time to
drive off the herd. I found this was not so easy as it looked. First I
shouted at them, man-fashion. Several short angry rushes in our direction
was the answer. The boys did not like it, and I certainly did not want
to do any cow shooting, so I tried the dodge of trying to imitate hyenas
or lions. Whenever I had tried these curious sounds on elephant before
it had invariably made them at first uneasy and then anxious to go
away. But here was tougher material. They drew more closely round the
fallen bulls and more tossing fronts were presented. As for any moving
off there was no sign of it. I redoubled my efforts; I screeched and
boomed myself hoarse, and I am certain that any other herd of elephants
would have rushed shrieking from the spot. But nothing would move the
Gondokoro herd. Even when I fired repeatedly over their heads nothing
much happened, but when I pasted the dusty ground about their trunks
with bullets they began to move quite slowly and with much stopping
and running back. It was a gallant herd of ladies; very different its
behaviour from that of a bull herd in a similar situation.

When the ground was clear we seized the head of the dead bull and with a
combined heave raised it sufficiently to release the calf, but it was too
late, he was dead.

Having entered my rifles at Lado and cleared them through the Douane,
it was not necessary again to visit a Belgian post. So when the hunting
season opened, I already had a herd of bull elephant located. Naturally,
I lost no time when the date arrived. The date, that is, according to
my calculations. This matter is of some importance, as I believe I was
afterwards accused of being too soon. I may have begun a day or even
two days before the date, but to the best of my knowledge it was the
opening date when I found a nice little herd of bulls, several of which
I killed with the brain shot. I was using at that time a very light and
sweet-working Mann-Sch. carbine, ·256 bore and weighing only 5¼ lb. With
this tiny and beautiful little weapon I had extraordinary luck, and I
should have continued to use it in preference to my other rifles had not
its Austrian ammunition developed the serious fault of splitting at the
neck. After that discovery I reverted to my well-tried and always trusty
7 mm. Mauser.

My luck was right in on that safari. The time of year was just right. All
the elephant for 100 miles inland were crowded into the swamps lining the
Nile banks. Hunting was difficult only on account of the high grass. To
surmount this one required either a dead elephant or a tripod to stand
on. From such an eminence others could generally be shot. And the best of
it was the huge herds were making so much noise themselves that only a
few of them could hear the report of the small-bore. None of the elephant
could be driven out of the swamps. Whenever they came to the edge and saw
the burnt-up country before them, they wheeled about and re-entered the
swamp with such determination that nothing I could do would shake it.
Later on when the rains came and the green stuff sprang up everywhere—in
a night, as it were—scarcely an elephant could be found in the swamps.

[Illustration: ELEPHANT IN THE UPPER NILE SWAMP.]

[Illustration: IN THE LADO ENCLAVE: WHITE RHINO, LION AND ELEPHANT.]

Just when things were at their best tragedy darkened the prospect. Three
of my boys launched and loaded with ivory a leaky dug-out. The leaks they
stopped in the usual manner with clay, and shoved off. The Nile at this
place was about a mile broad, and when about half way the entire end of
the canoe fell out; it had been stuck in with clay. Down went everything.
Now, here is a curious thing. Out of the three occupants two could swim.
These two struck out for the shore and were drawn under by “crocs.,”
while the one who could not swim clung to the barely floating canoe, and
was presently saved. He kept trying to climb into it from the side, which
resulted, of course, in rolling it over and over. It may well be that
to this unusual form of canoe manœuvring he owed his life. At any rate,
the crocs. never touched him. A gloom settled on the camp that night
certainly; but in Africa, death in, to us, strange forms produces but
little impression on the native mind, and all was jolly again in a day or
two.

After about two months’ hunting it became necessary to bury ivory. The
safari could no longer carry it, so a site was chosen close to the
river bank and a huge pit dug. Large as it was, it barely took all our
beautiful elephant teeth. Ivory has awkward shapes and different curves,
and cannot be stowed closely. Consequently there was much earth left over
after filling the pit, to show all and sundry where excavating had taken
place. Where cattle or donkeys are available, the spot is enclosed by a
fence of bushes, and the animals soon obliterate all traces, but here
we had nothing. So to guard our precious hoard I erected a symbol which
might have been mistaken by a white man for a cross made in a hurry,
while its objectless appearance conveyed to the African mind the sure
impress of “medicine.” I remember that to one rickety arm I suspended an
empty cartridge and the tip of a hippo’s tail. That the medicine was good
was shown three or four months later when I sent some boys for the ivory.
They found that the soil had been washed away from the top, exposing
completely one tusk and parts of the others, but that otherwise the cache
was untouched. In spite of my giving to the boy in charge of this party
one length of stick for each tusk contained in the pit, he returned with
one short of the proper number. To convince him of this fact it was
necessary to line out the ivory and then to cover each tusk with one bit
of stick, when, of course, there remained one stick over. Straightway
that party had a good feed and set off for the pit again, well over a
hundred miles away. It never occurred to them that one tusk might have
been stolen. They were right. Through just feeling that they themselves
would not have touched anything, guarded as our pit was guarded, they
judged correctly that no other native man would do so. At the bottom of
the open pit and now exposed by the rains was found the missing tusk.

After the hot work of the dry season in the swamps the open bush country,
with still short grass, was ideal for the foot-hunter. The country was
literally swarming with game of all sorts. I remember in one day seeing
six white rhino besides elephant, buffalo and buck of various kinds.
Then happened a thing that will sound incredible to most ears. I ran
to a standstill, or rather to a walking pace, a herd of elephant. It
happened thus. Early one morning I met with a white rhino, carrying a
magnificent horn. I killed him for the horn. At the shot I heard the
alarm rumble of elephant. Soon I was up to a large herd of bulls, cows,
half-growns and calves. They were not yet properly alarmed, and were
travelling slowly along. Giving hasty instructions to my boy to find the
safari and to then camp it at the water nearest to the white rhino, I
tailed on to that elephant herd. The sun then indicated about 8 a.m.,
and at sundown (6 p.m.) there we were passing the carcase of the dead
rhino at a footpace. By pure luck we had described a huge circle, and it
was only by finding the dead rhino that I knew where I was. Throughout
that broiling day I had run and run, sweating out the moisture I took in
at occasional puddles in the bush, sucking it through closed teeth to
keep out the wriggling things. At that time I was not familiar with the
oblique shot at the brain from behind, and I worked hard for each shot
by racing up to a position more or less at right angles to the beast to
be shot. Consequently I gave myself a great deal of unnecessary trouble.
That I earned each shot will become apparent when I state that although
I had the herd well in hand by about 2 p.m., the total bag for the day
was but fifteen bulls. To keep behind them was easy, the difficulty was
that extra burst of speed necessary to overtake and range alongside them.
The curious thing was that they appeared to be genuinely distressed by
the sun and the pace. In the latter part of the day, whenever I fired I
produced no quickening of the herd’s speed whatever. No heads turned, no
flourishing of trunks, and no attempted rushes by cows as in the morning.
Just a dull plodding of thoroughly beaten animals. This day’s hunting
has always puzzled me. I have attempted the same thing often since, but
have never been able to live with them for more than a short distance.
Although a large herd, it was not so large but that every individual
of it was thoroughly alarmed by each shot. I think that perhaps they
committed a fatal mistake in not killing me with a burst of speed at the
start. I left them when I recognised the dead rhino, and found camp soon
afterwards. The next two days I rested in camp, while the cutting-out
gang worked back along the trail of the herd, finding and de-tusking the
widely separated bodies of the dead elephants.

Shortly after leaving this camp four bull elephants were seen in the
distance. As I went for them, and in passing through some thick bush,
we came suddenly on two white rhino. They came confusedly barging about
at very close range, and then headed straight for the safari. Now, it
is usual for all porters familiar with the black rhino to throw down
their loads crash bang whenever a rhino appears to be heading in their
direction. Much damage then ensues to ivory if the ground be hard, and
to crockery and bottles in any case. To prevent this happening I quickly
killed the rhino, hoping that the shots would not alarm the elephants. We
soon saw that they were still feeding slowly along, but before reaching
them we came upon a lion lying down. I did not wish to disturb the
elephants, but I did want his skin, which had a nice dark mane. While I
hesitated he jumped up and stood broadside on. I fired a careful shot and
got him. He humped his back and subsided with a little cough, while the
bullet whined away in the distance. At the shot a lioness jumped up and
could have been shot, but I let her go. Then on to our main objective.

This morning’s work shows what a perfect game paradise I was then in.

Presently King Leopold of Belgium died, and the evacuation of the Lado
began. As I mentioned before, the Belgians had six months in which to
carry this out. Instead of six months they were pretty well out of it
in six weeks, and now there started a kind of “rush” for the abandoned
country. All sorts of men came. Government employees threw up their jobs.
Masons, contractors, marine engineers, army men, hotel keepers and others
came, attracted by the tales of fabulous quantities of ivory. More than
one party was fired with the resolve to find Emin Pasha’s buried store.
It might almost have been a gold “rush.”

Into the Enclave then came this horde. At first they were for the most
part orderly law-abiding citizens, but soon this restraint was thrown
off. Finding themselves in a country where even murder went unpunished,
every man became a law unto himself. Uganda could not touch him, the
Sudan had no jurisdiction for six months, and the Belgians had gone. Some
of the men went utterly bad and behaved atrociously to the natives, but
the majority were too decent to do anything but hunt elephants. But the
few bad men made it uncommonly uncomfortable for the decent ones. The
natives became disturbed, suspicious, shy and treacherous. The game was
shot at, missed, wounded or killed by all sorts of people who had not the
rudiments of hunter-craft or rifle shooting. The Belgian posts on the new
frontier saw with alarm this invasion of heavily armed safaris; in some
cases I believe they thought we might be trying some kind of Jameson raid
on the Kilo goldfields, or something of that sort. Whatever they thought,
I know that in one case their representative was in a highly dangerous
state of nerves. He was at Mahagi on Lake Albert Edward. I happened to
be passing down the lake in my steel canoe. My boys and gear followed
in a large dug-out. With the rising of the sun a breeze sprang up, and
with it a lop on the water sufficient to alarm the boys in the dug-out.
They happened to be passing Mahagi Port at the moment. I was miles ahead
and out of sight. They decided to wait in the sheltered waters of Port
Mahagi until the breeze should die down. They did so, and on landing were
promptly seized by Belgian soldiery, made to unload my gear, and to carry
it up to the fort.

Some hours later I came paddling along shore searching every bay for my
lost safari. Crossing the mouth of Mahagi Port, and never dreaming that
they would have put in there, what should I see through my glasses but my
large dug-out lying on the beach, abandoned. I entered to investigate,
but could see none of my boys about. Some natives told me they had been
marched up to the fort.

Now, it was my habit when canoeing in those waters to do so with bare
feet. It suddenly dawned on me that I had left my shoes with my safari.
I thought it would be devilish awkward walking up to a strange frontier
post in bare feet, to say nothing of the discomfort of climbing four
or five hundred yards of stony path. I sat down and wrote a note on a
scrap of paper to the officer in charge of the post, explaining what had
happened, and asking him to send my safari on to the English side, only
a few miles away. I also mentioned that I was on my way there. I wrote
this note in English, as the Belgians usually have an English-speaking
officer in their frontier posts. Beckoning a native, I sent my note up to
the fort and paddled off. As I was clearing the bay I saw some soldiers
issue from the fort, one of them waving a letter. I returned to the beach
and waited for them to arrive, much against the advice of my boy, who
said there was bad “medicine” about. I took the precaution to remain out
a yard or two from the shore. Soon black soldiers were approaching. When
a few yards from the canoe the corporal who was carrying the letter, or
piece of paper, shoved it quickly into his pouch, slung his rifle to his
shoulder, rushed to the bow of my canoe, saying to the others “Kamata
M’zungu” in Kiswahili. This means “Catch or seize the white man.”

I had been watching the whole manœuvre carefully, paddle in hand. When
he said those words I knew there was dirty work afoot. When, therefore,
the leader laid hold of the canoe I hit him a terrific blow on the head
with my stout ash steering paddle. At the same time my boy shoved off,
and there we were almost at once 10 yds. from the shore gang. Their
leader was not stunned by my blow—it seems almost impossible to stun
black men—and he had hurriedly unslung his rifle and was feverishly
loading it. His companions were likewise occupied. The first ready raised
and levelled his rifle, and before he could fire I shot him, aiming
for the arm. He yelled and dropped his arm, while the others let fly a
volley as they ducked and ran. I fired no other shot, but was sorely
tempted. My boy and I now paddled vigorously for the open water, bullets
raining around us, but not very close. I could distinguish a small-bore
among the reports of the soldiers’ guns; it was the white man of the
fort taking a hand. I drew a bead on him and was again tempted, but
managed to withstand it. Presently they got their cannon—a Nordenfelt, I
believe—into action, but what they fired at I cannot conceive, for the
shots came nowhere nearer than 100 yds. to us. I feel that one or two
good rifle shots might have taken that post without any great trouble or
danger to themselves.

I wondered now what to do about it. The whole thing was an infernal
nuisance. I thought the best thing I could do was to go to the nearest
English port and report the matter to the authorities, which I did; and
in a day or two all my boys turned up except one. They said that when the
row started down on the beach all the soldiers and the white man seized
their rifles and rushed out to the heights overlooking the bay. With them
went the guards detailed to look after the prisoners. When the road was
clear these latter simply walked out of the deserted post, spread out,
and were quickly lost in the bush. All except one, who foolishly ran down
to the beach. He was shot. The others soon made their way overland and
arrived safely at the English port.

After reorganising my safari I found myself heading for a new region, the
country lying around Mt. Schweinfurth. Native information said elephant
were numerous and the ivory large. This time I took all my sporting
rifles. This meant that, besides my two personal rifles, I had five smart
boys armed with good rifles. We all felt ready to take on anything at any
time.

A few miles back from the Nile we found an exceptionally dense and
isolated patch of forest. There was no other forest for miles around,
and into this stronghold were crowded all kinds of elephant. They could
not be dislodged or driven out as we very soon found on trying it. I
never saw such vicious brutes. When you had killed a bull you could not
approach it for furious elephant. I devoted some time to this patch,
getting a few hard-earned bulls from it. Right in its centre there was
a clear space of an acre or two in extent. Here, one day, I found a few
cows and one bull sunning themselves. I had an easy shot at the bull
and fired, killing him. At the shot there arose the most appalling din
from the surrounding forest. Elephant in great numbers appeared from all
sides crowding into the little clearing until it was packed with deeply
agitated animals. Those that could, shoved their way up to the dead bull,
alternately throwing their heads high in the air, then lowering them
as if butting at the prostrate bull. They did not know my whereabouts,
but they knew that the danger lay in the forest, for they presented a
united front of angry heads all along the side within my view. They
seemed to regard this clear spot as their citadel, to be defended at all
cost. Short intimidating rushes out from the line were frequently made,
sometimes in my direction, but more often not. But when I got a chance
at another bull and fired, I really thought I had done it this time, and
that the whole lot were coming. So vicious was their appearance, and so
determined did they seem as they advanced, that I hurriedly withdrew more
deeply into the forest. Looking back, however, I saw that, as usual, it
was mostly bluff, and that they had stopped at the edge of the clearing.
Presently they withdrew again, leaving, perhaps, 20 yds. between them
and the forest edge. I approached again to try for another bull. Clumsy
white-man fashion I made some noise, which they heard. A lightning rush
by a tall and haggard looking cow right into the stuff, from which I was
peeping at them, sent me off again. I now began to wonder how I was to
reach the two bulls I had shot. I did not want to kill any of the cows,
but thought that it might become necessary, especially as they seemed
to be turning very nasty indeed. The annoying part was that I had seen
several bulls right out in the sea of cows. Fitting cartridges between
my left hand fingers and with full magazine I approached as quietly
as possible, fully prepared to give anything heading my way a sound
lesson. Looking into the brilliantly lit open space from the twilight
of the forest, I saw over the backs and heads of the cows between us
the towering body of a large bull well out in the centre of the herd.
His tusks were hidden by the cows, but it was almost certain from his
general mass that they would be satisfactory. Just the little dark slot
above the earhole was intermittently uncovered by the heads, ears or
trunks of the intervening cows, which were still much agitated. At last I
got a clear slant and fired. The image was instantly blocked out by the
thrown-up heads of several cows as they launched themselves furiously
towards the shot. I was immediately engaged with three of the nearest,
and sufficiently angry with them to stand my ground. I hoped also to
hustle the herd out of their fighting mood. I had spent days of trouble
in this patch of forest. My boys had been chased out and demoralised
when they attempted to drive them. I myself had been badly scared once
or twice with their barging about, and it was now time to see about it.
My shot caught the leading cow in the brain and dropped her slithering
on her knees right in the track of two advancing close to her. One kept
on towards me, offering no decent chance at her brain, so I gave her
a bullet in a non-vital place to turn her. With a shriek she stopped,
slewed half round and backed a few steps. Then round came her head again
facing towards me. I was on the point of making an end of her when a mass
of advancing heads, trunks and ears appeared on both sides of her. From
that moment onwards I can give no coherent description of what followed,
because the images appeared, disappeared and changed with such rapidity
as to leave no permanent impressions. In time the space was clear of
living elephant. So far as that goes, it was my victory; but as for
clearing that patch of forest—No. That was their victory. I had merely
taught them not to use the clear space as their citadel.

[Illustration: LOOKING INTO THE BRILLIANTLY LIT OPEN SPACE FROM THE
TWILIGHT OF THE FOREST.]

Passing on, and climbing all the time, we reached a truly wonderful
country. High, cool and with rolling hills. Running streams of clear cold
water in every hollow, the sole bush a few forest trees lining their
banks. In the wet season covered with high, strong grass, it was now
burned off and the fresh young green stuff was just coming away. In the
far distance could be seen from some of the higher places a dark line. It
was the edge of “Darkest Africa,” the great primeval forest spreading for
thousands of square miles. Out of that forest, and elsewhere, had come
hundreds upon hundreds of elephants to feed upon the young green stuff.
They stood around on that landscape as if made of wood and stuck there.
Hunting there was too easy. Beyond a few reed buck there was no other
game. Soon natives flocked to our camps, and at one time there must have
been 3,000 of them. They were noisy and disturbed the game, no doubt, but
when it came to moving our ivory they were indispensable. Without them we
could not have budged.

At a camp close to the edge of the great forest I was sitting on a little
hill one evening. Along one of the innumerable elephant paths I saw a
small bull coming. Suliemani, my faithful servant and cook, had for years
boasted of how he would kill elephant if he were given the chance. Here
it was, and I should be able to see the fun. I came down to camp, called
for Suliemani, gave him a rifle and thirty rounds, pointed out to him the
direction of the elephant and sent him off. Then I re-climbed the hill
from which I could see both Suliemani and the elephant. The bull, having,
perhaps, caught a whiff of our camp, had turned, and was now leisurely
making towards the forest. Soon Suliemani got his tracks and went racing
along behind him. The elephant now entered some long dry grass which had
escaped the fires, and this stuff evidently hid him from Suliemani’s
view. At the same time it was not sufficiently high to prevent my seeing
what happened through my glasses. In the high grass the elephant halted
and Suliemani came slap into him. With two frightful starts Suliemani
turned and fled in one direction, the elephant in the other. After half
a hundred yards Suliemani pulled himself together and once more took up
the trail, disappearing into the forest. Soon shot after shot was heard.
There was no lack of friends in camp to carefully count the number poor
Suliemani fired. When twenty-seven had been heard there was silence
for a long time. Darkness fell, everyone supped. Then came Suliemani
stalking empty-handed into camp. A successful hunter always cuts off the
tail and brings it home. Suliemani had failed after all his blowing.
The camp was filled with jeers and jibes. Not a word from Suliemani as
he prepared to eat his supper. Having eaten it in silence, the whole
time being ragged to death by all his mates, he quietly stepped across
the camp, disappeared a moment into the darkness, and reappeared with
the elephant’s tail. He had killed it after all! There was a shout of
laughter, but all Suliemani said was, “Of course.”

[Illustration: SULIEMANI BUMPS INTO HIS BULL.]

[Illustration: THE ARRIVAL IN WEST AFRICA.

_If the natives were not very expert watermen a great portion of the
coast trade would cease for lack of harbours and landing facilities.
White sailors are of no use for this work. It will be noticed that the
natives use paddles, which they prefer to oars, except the steersman, who
uses a long sweep._]

HUNTING IN LIBERIA

In the year 1911 the search for new hunting grounds took me to Liberia,
the Black Republic. I secured a passage by tramp steamer to Sinoe Town,
Greenwood County, some few hundred miles south of the capital Monrovia.
Here I landed with my little camp outfit and a decent battery, comprising
a ·318 Mauser and a ·22 rook rifle.

Right on the threshold I was met by conditions which are unique in
Africa, with possibly the exception of Abyssinia; for here the white
man comes under the rule of the black, and any attempt at evasion
or disregard of it is quickly and forcibly resented, as I witnessed
immediately on stepping ashore. Among a crowd of blacks was a white man
held powerless. His appearance seeming familiar, I had a nearer look, and
was astonished to recognise one of the officers of the tramp steamer from
which I had just landed. I asked him what the trouble was about, but he
could only curse incoherently. Just then a very polite black man, in blue
uniform and badge-cap, informed me that the officer had struck a native,
and that the officer would have to answer for it to the magistrate. He
was then promptly taken before the beak, who fined him 25 dollars _and
the ship’s captain 50 dollars_, although the latter had not even been on
shore.

After this episode I began to wonder what I had let myself in for. I
found, however, that my informant in uniform was the Customs officer,
and extremely polite and anxious to help me to pass my gear through. He
seemed to have absolute power in his department, and let me off very
lightly indeed. In all my dealings I invariably treated the Liberians
with the greatest politeness, and I was invariably received in the same
way.

As soon as I had got clear of the Customs I looked out for a lodging of
some sort. There were no hotels, of course, but eventually I found an
Englishman who represented a rubber company. He very kindly put me up.
I found that my host was the only Englishman, he, with a German trader,
comprising the white community.

My host, whom I will call B., was much interested in my expedition into
the interior. He told me frankly that I would have a devil of a time. He
said that the jurisdiction of the Liberians extended inland for about ten
miles only, and beyond that the country was in the hands of the original
natives. These were all armed with guns and a few rifles, and were
constantly at war with each other. This I found to be true.

As I was determined to penetrate and see for myself, he advised me to
call on the Governor; also that I should take suitable presents to him.
I resolved to do so. On my friend’s advice I bought a case of beer and a
case of Kola wine, the Governor, it appeared, being very partial to these
beverages mixed. He told me that if I pressed a golden sovereign into his
hand I should get what I wanted, _i.e._, a permit to hunt elephant.

I had to engage servants, and B. said I could either buy them or hire
them. He explained that slavery was rampant. Whenever a tribe in the
interior brought off a successful raid on their neighbours the captives
were generally brought to the coast and there sold to the Liberians,
themselves liberated slaves from the United States of America. Alcoholism
was so prevalent and widespread and had reached such a pitch that
scarcely any children are born to the Liberians proper, in which case
they buy bush children and adopt them as their own.

B. was going to a dance that night, and asked me if I would care to go
with him. I was anxious to see what I could of the people and agreed
to go. Later on I was surprised to see B. in full evening dress. He
explained that everyone dressed. Now, as I had not brought mine, it was
very awkward. But B. said it would be all right. As we were changing, a
fine buxom black girl burst into our house and marched straight upstairs
to B.’s room, throwing wide the door. There was B. with his white shirt
and nothing else. I closed my door, but could hear the lady engaging B.
for some of the dances. She then asked for the white man who had arrived
that day, and then my door was thrown open. I was far from dressed
myself, and something about my appearance seemed to tickle the lady
immensely, for she went into peals of the jolliest laughter. She spoke
English with a strong American accent, as nearly all the Liberians do.
She made me promise to dance with her that night, in spite of my protests
that I could not dance at all. She turned the place upside down and then
departed. I hastened to ask B. what kind of dances they had, and he told
me they liked waltzing best.

After dinner we sauntered off to a large barn, where a musical din
denoted the dance. Here we found a fine lay-out. Lavish refreshments,
chiefly composed of cakes, cold pork, gin and beer, were provided for
all. Everybody was very jolly, and they _could_ dance, or so it seemed
to me. The girls were nearly all in white or pink dresses, but not very
_décolleté_. A tall coal-black gentleman in full evening dress was master
of ceremonies, but introductions soon became unnecessary. Round the
refreshments gathered the old men, some in frock coats of a very ancient
cut, others in more modern garments. I was hospitably pressed to drink.
The musicians drank without pressing. Everybody drank, women and all.
What added zest was the fact that _the fines inflicted on the steamer
captain and his officer paid for the feast_. German export beer and
Hamburg potato spirit were then only a few pence per bottle, consequently
the dance became a debauch, seasoned drinkers though they were. The din
and heat became terrific. Starched collars turned to sodden rags and
things indescribable happened. Thus ended my first day in the Black
Republic.

As notice had been sent the Governor of my intended visit, and I had
bought the necessary beer and Kola wine, next day I set off to visit him
at his residence, some little way out of town. Bush, with clearings
planted with coffee, describes the country between the town and the
Governor’s residence, itself situated in a large coffee plantation.
The house was of lumber construction and two storeys high, well built,
and the largest I had yet seen. I marched up, followed by B’s two boys
carrying the present, to the front door. I was met immediately by a
splendid-looking old black, very tall, very black, dressed in a long
black frock coat, high starched collar and black cravat. With snow-white
hair and Uncle Sam beard and accent to match, he received me in a really
kind and hearty manner. I must confess that I felt rather diffident
with my two cases of cheap liquor in the background, while I fingered
a few hot sovereigns in my pocket. However, the bluff old fellow soon
put me at my ease. Seeing the stuff out there on the boys’ heads, he
beckoned them in, helped them to lower their load, shouted to someone to
come and open the boxes, sent the boys in to get a drink, and ushered
me into his sitting-room, all in the jolliest manner possible. Here we
talked a bit, and then I told him what I had come for. A permit to hunt
elephant! Ha! ha! ha! he roared. Of course I should have a permit to
hunt elephant. He wrote it there and then. Would I stop for dinner? I
said I would be delighted. Then we had beer and Kola wine mixed until
lunch was announced. Then the old boy took off his coat and invited me
to do likewise. I did so and followed my host into the eating-room. Here
was a long trestle table laid for about twenty people—white tablecloth,
knives, forks, etc. As we seated ourselves, in trooped enchanting little
black girls, all dressed neatly in moderately clean print dresses, with
arms, necks, and legs bare. And then Mrs. Governor appeared with some
larger girls. After shaking hands we all sat down to a very substantial
meal. It was perfectly charming. Everyone was at ease. The old man was
an excellent host and the old lady just as good a hostess. Conversation
never flagged. The old man was full of his brother’s doings. It appeared
that his brother was a lazy, good-for-nothing fellow, who would let his
cows stray on to his neighbours’ plantations. My host had repeatedly
remonstrated, but without effect. So that morning, having discovered
some of his brother’s cows meandering about the plantation, he had gone
straight for his shot-gun and had rendered at least one incapable of
further depredations. This act had, it appeared, stirred the brother
profoundly, but in an unusual way, for he could be heard for miles
bawling religious songs from his bedroom window. Whenever there was a
lull during lunch we heard the monotonous chant, which appeared to amuse
my host immensely.

All the little girls were called their children, but I subsequently
found that the old couple were quite childless, and that these were bush
children from the interior and were now adopted.

My host told me that he had been a slave in the Southern States; he said
he could remember well being flogged. He said that elephant were numerous
in the interior, also bush-cow (the little red buffalo), leopard, and the
pigmy hippo. As regards the tribes, he laughed and said that they were a
rough lot. He said that Liberia was almost continually at war with them.
In this connection I heard afterwards that the bush men had been down
on a raid to a neighbouring town. They had seized, stripped, and tarred
and feathered the Governor, raided and carried off all the liquor in the
trading stores, and enjoyed themselves generally.

Altogether, Liberia was, at the time of which I write, about the funniest
show it has ever been my lot to see. When they set up their Customs to
levy import duty on spirits, etc., they soon discovered that an extensive
and very lucrative trade in smuggling started up. Steamers used to draw
in close to the coast and sell for spot cash and gold dust whole cargoes
of gin, gunpowder, caps, and articles of general trade. Natives would put
off in their canoes in clouds, and in a very short time the cargo would
be sold on deck and landed. In order to stop this the Republic bought a
second-hand steam yacht which had originally belonged to King Leopold,
I believe. For the following account of the doings of this navy I am
indebted to B.; for its accuracy I cannot vouch.

According to B., then, the yacht was armed with a light gun and some
machine guns. The crew were all blacks, with the exception of the
captain, who was an Englishman. This Englishman was admiral of the fleet,
captain and commander all in one. Evidently his gunners were so bad
that he found it necessary to fire the gun himself whenever it had to
be fired. As his salary was never forthcoming when due, he used to take
it out of the fines he imposed on ships caught in the act. That he was
energetic is shown by his first encounter with a smuggling ship. This
happened to be a German, well inside the three-mile limit. The Liberian
navy signalled her to stop. She disregarded this and carried on. The
admiral jumped to his gun and let fly a shot across her bows. She still
carried on. So then the admiral let rip and carried away a part of her
bridge with the first shot. One can imagine the guttural curses and funk
on that German bridge. Nothing more was needed, she hove to. The game
ceased to be so popular after this encounter. Smuggling by the shipload
was stopped. Passing through the French West African port, Dakkar, some
time after my visit to Liberia, I saw the Liberian navy—a beautiful
little craft—lying at anchor. In answer to my enquiries I was told that
she had been in dock for repairs, that the bill for these amounted to
some £600, that the Republican Treasury had been unable to meet it, and
that the repairers refused to let her sail until it was met. How long she
remained there I cannot say.

With the acquisition of the hunting permit and the hiring of some lads
from the interior, I was soon ready for the road. For ten miles or so we
passed through lazily-kept coffee plantations, mostly worked by slave
labour. The coffee is excellent, but produced without system. After this
we began to rise gradually through virgin forests, with no inhabitants.
Our road was a mere footpath. There were no flies, which was pleasant.
Throughout the forest country there were neither flies nor mosquitoes, in
spite of the dampness.

The first night we camped in the bush, where there were three huts. In
one of these huts there lived a sort of “medicine” man. I got hold of him
and asked him about my prospects of finding elephant. He was the most
wide-awake business man I had met since leaving London, for he at once
offered to make such “medicine” as would lead to my killing elephant
with large tusks in great numbers. I told him to fire away, but before
doing so he asked what I would give him. I promised that if I got large
tusks I would give him a case of gin. He was delighted, but wanted a
few heads of tobacco added. This was also agreed to. He said I might
consider the whole thing arranged. Then he asked me if I would care to
buy gold dust. I said yes. He then produced a tiny skin bag of the stuff.
I scoffed and said that I could not be troubled with quantities so small.
Turning indifferently away, I was about to leave him, when he said he
had some more. He produced more of it, little by little, until there was
perhaps £80 worth. Then I became more interested and asked him what he
wanted for it. Gunpowder came the answer at once. I told him I had none.
When he had brought himself to believe this he said he would exchange it
for an equal weight of golden sovereigns. Had his stuff been pure this
“trade” might have shown a small profit; but as it was obviously not so
I, of course, refused to buy. As a matter of curiosity I bought a pinch
of his dust and subsequently found that it contained about 25 per cent.
of brass filings. There were certainly no flies on that magic-monger.

To his business of making medicine this hoary old rascal added the,
perhaps, more lucrative one of slave dealing; for when I had retired to
my camp-bed my boy came to tell me that the medicine man wished to see
me. I told the boy to tell him to go now and come in the morning. The
answer came that he wanted to see me very particularly. He was let in and
came with a pleasant-looking young native girl following. She carried a
small calabash, which the old man took from her and gave it to me, saying
it was a present of honey. The girl remained kneeling and sitting on her
heels. The old ruffian kept leering at her and then leering at me. He
wished to sell her.

As we expected to reach the first village of the bush people that day, we
were off early in the morning. As a rule, in forest country it is as well
not to start too early. Until ten or eleven o’clock the bush bordering
the narrow native trails is saturated with moisture and remains wet even
after the passage of several people; then there is no sun to contend
with, as in open country.

On the way we saw monkeys of several kinds and tracks of bush-buck and
bush-cow. Hornbills were common and various kinds of forest birds. The
country was in ridges, heavily wooded, with running streams of clear
cold water in the hollows. Here and there could be seen scratchings
where natives had been looking for gold. The whole of this country is
auriferous, I believe. The gold is alluvial, and the particles widely
separated by dirt; too widely for Europeans, I expect.

Late in the afternoon we arrived at the village. They knew of our coming,
and the headman met us with a crowd of his people, and jolly independent
in manner they were. Among the crowd there was quite a sprinkling of
trade guns of the percussion cap type. Almost immediately I was shown to
the hut allocated to travellers, and very grateful its shade and coolness
were after the long and hilly march. Water and firewood were brought, and
the cook got busy. The construction of the huts was new to me and quite
excellent. The floor of the hut was raised some four feet off the ground
and consisted of stout bamboo mats tightly stretched over poles. As the
mats were rather loosely woven, all dirt and water simply fell through
to the ground. If a bath is required you squat on the floor and dash the
water over yourself; it all runs through and soon dries up again. Then
the mats, being springy, make a most excellent bed. Vermin are absent.
One is obliged to have one of the huts, as the bush runs close up to the
villages, leaving no room for a tent, besides which the ground is so damp
as to make a floor well off the ground desirable.

After refreshment I called the headman and told him I had come to hunt
elephant. He asked to see my rifle. I showed it to him, my ·318. He
smiled and said it would not do, peering into the small muzzle. He called
for his own to show me, a huge affair, muzzle-loading and shooting a
long wooden harpoon with an iron head heavily poisoned. But, he said, my
rifle might do for bush-cow, of which there were plenty near at hand. He
asked me if I would go after them next morning. I did not wish to a bit,
but I thought it might be as well to create a good impression by killing
something, so I promised to try. He then left me, and presently a nice
present of food, a couple of fowls and eggs, arrived.

On the morrow I left for the bush with some local guides. We soon found
fresh bush-cow tracks and took them up. They led through a lot of deadly
thick stuff, wet and cold. The guides made such a noise that I thought
any bush-cow that allowed us near enough to see them would have to be
both sound asleep and deaf; and so it turned out, for presently we heard
them stampeding through the bush. I gave it up at once, and consoled
the natives by promising to kill some monkeys for them on the way back,
which I had no difficulty in doing. Arrived back in the village, I gave
the headman a couple of monkeys and some tobacco in return for the
hospitality we had enjoyed. Then we set off forward for the hunting
grounds. We had a set-back about half way, as our guides deserted us,
saying they were at war with the people we were going to. This is always
awkward in Africa, for the paths are so misleading. There was nothing for
it but to trust to luck and push on.

After some miles of chancing our way along we saw a native on the path.
As soon as we saw him he saw us and dived into the bush, trailing his
long gun dangerously behind him. The alarm was out, and it was imperative
to arrive at the village before anything could be organised. I gave my
rifle to a boy to carry and on we went. Luckily the village was handy,
and we marched straight into the middle of it and sat down, the natives,
who had been having a pow-wow, scattering right and left. This is always
a very disconcerting thing for natives; they seemed quite lost to see
what they had regarded as an enemy an instant before sitting quietly
right in the middle of their town. It is necessary on these occasions to
suppress any signs of nervousness on the part of one’s followers, which
is not always easy. When this is done and there is no flourishing of
lethal weapons I have never known it to fail. In a short time up came
the headman, in an awful funk, but outwardly composed. He demanded of
me what I wanted. I said, “Sit down!” He continued to stand. I told one
of my boys to bring a mat, and beckoned the headman to sit down. He did.
Then I told him why we were there, and that if they showed us elephant
they should have the meat. He went away and had a talk with some of his
men, who had returned from the bush. I noticed that nearly all of them
were armed with guns. Presently he came back and led me to a hut. I got
the thing made habitable, and the usual procedure of peaceful travellers
went on. No notice was taken by us of anyone, and presently the native
women began to be once more visible, a pretty fair indication that no
hostilities were intended, for the moment, at any rate. In an hour or
two the headman came in most cordial mood. He had been pushing enquiries
among my boys, I knew. Apparently all was well. He said I could not have
come to a better spot for elephant, or to a better man than himself. He
presumed that I had heard of him; he seemed to think that London must be
ringing with his prowess. I did not tell him I had never heard of him; I
merely smiled.

His news was most inspiring, although I knew enough of Africans to
discount 75 per cent. of it. He said the bush was full of elephant. I
decided to try next day for them, and told the headman so. He laughed
and said we would have to sleep some nights in the bush and that food
would have to be taken. Therefore, the following day was devoted to
preparing food for the journey. In the evening I warned the people that
I was going to fire, and showed them the penetration of a modern rifle
with solid bullet. I chose for this purpose a certain white-barked tree,
the wood of which I knew, from former trials, set up less resistance to
the passage of a bullet than that of other trees. This particular tree
was very thick, and I hoped the bullet would not fail to come out on the
other side. It traversed it easily, to my relief and the astonishment
of the natives, who came in crowds to see the exit hole. Of course,
none of their guns would have looked at it. It is just this kind of
childish little thing that impresses Africans, and when done quietly and
indifferently enough is most useful. In this case the effect was doubled
by the fact that in their mode of waging war the taking of cover behind
trees was more than half the game. Luckily, no one was sufficiently acute
to ask me to fire through some of the smaller but much tougher trees.
They began to think that my rifle might kill elephant after all.

On the morrow we stored our heavy loads in the headman’s hut and left
for the bush. I took my camp-bed, and a ground-sheet which could be
slung on a stick over it when it rained. These, with some plain food and
200 rounds of cartridges, comprised the loads, and, as we had plenty of
followers, each man was lightly laden.

After passing through some plantations we were almost immediately in
the virgin forest. We trekked hard all that day without seeing anything
more interesting than monkeys and forest pig, but on the following day
the country began to show signs of game. Bush-cow tracks became common,
and we crossed several elephant paths, but devoid of recent tracks.
This day I saw for the first time the comparatively tiny tracks of the
pigmy hippo. In one place quite a herd of them had passed in the night.
I gathered from the natives that they sometimes remained throughout the
day in the dark pools of the smaller forest streams, but that usually
they passed the daytime in the larger streams, when they would come up
to breathe under the overhanging banks, only the nostrils emerging from
the water. The reason for this extreme shyness appeared to be that the
natives possessed firearms, the animals were quite defenceless, and the
price of meat was high in all this stockless country. There exists such
a dearth of flesh food that cannibalism is practised. Towards evening we
reached a stream, on the bank of which it was decided we should camp.
While a clearing was being made someone spotted a python coiled up on a
rock a few feet out in the stream. They called me to come and shoot it.
I ran up with my rifle to do so, and arrived just as the great snake
was beginning to uncoil itself. First its head came, more and more of
its body uncoiling behind it until the head reached the shore, the body
bridging the space between it and the rock, where there still remained
several coils. It landed in face of us, and I was waiting till enough of
it had reached hard ground before firing. Meanwhile the boys, who had
been clearing bush, rushed up with their slashers and attacked the huge
serpent vigorously. It appeared to make no attempt to defend itself and
was soon disabled by a few dozen blows on the head and neck. Although
dead, the body continued to writhe with great force as it was being cut
up into sections. All the natives were in high glee at securing so much
good food. They said it was very good to eat, and certainly the flesh
looked all right. When cooked, it became as white as boiled cod and
seemed to lie in layers in the same way. The python was about 16 ft. long
and contained the almost digested remains of one or more monkeys.

As I had killed two or three monkeys for them during the day the boys
had a splendid feast with the python added. I noticed that they ate the
python and roasted the monkeys whole to carry forward cold. I gathered
that elephant might be expected next day.

It poured hard most of the night, and it was quite cold. Luckily, the
forest was a splendid wind break, and but little rain reached my snug
camp-bed. The boys made little shelters with under-bush, kept the fires
going and ate python all night.

As soon as we were warmed up a bit next morning we started. Now, when
the bush is wet and the cold of the early morning is still on, it is
very hard to get a native to go ahead. Being naked, they come in for a
shower bath every time they touch a branch. They simply loathe it. With
difficulty one will eventually be pushed in front, but in a very short
time he will pretend to have a thorn in his foot or some other pressing
reason for stopping, and another has to be pushed forward. This continues
until things heat up with the heightening of the sun. Not that you can
see the sun when in this kind of forest; but, somehow, its heat rays
penetrate the dense roof of foliage, although quite invisible.

We soon reached a lot of fresh elephant tracks. I examined them
carefully, but could find no bull tracks at all. I could not even find
one moderately big cow track. I was puzzled. All the tracks appeared to
have been made by calves and half-grown animals. The boys were very
pleased with them, however, and when I said I was not going to follow
such small stuff they assured me that the smaller the track the bigger
the teeth. This belief I have found to be common all over Africa, not
only among native hunters, but also among whites. In my experience it
has failed to stand the test of careful observation. But it is so widely
held and so firmly believed in that it may be interesting to state the
conclusion I have arrived at after very many opportunities of testing it.
It is, of course, merely one man’s experience, but I give it for what it
is worth.

Very large and bulky elephants _appear_ to carry small tusks. Why they
appear small is this: A tusk reaches a great length and a great lip
diameter in a comparatively small number of years, but is very hollow
and weighs light. At this stage the bearer is still young and slim, as
with man. Therefore, his tusks look enormous in proportion to his general
bulk. Therefore, however, his tusks gain but little either in length or
girth, but the hollows fill up more and more with the decades; while his
body continues to fill out, he stops chasing the cows, takes less and
less exercise, becomes bulkier and sourer in the temper, suffers from
gout, for all I know, gets a liver—for I have found them diseased in very
old elephant—and now his tusks look small in proportion to his general
size. To bear me out I would point to the enormously heavy tusk in the
Victoria and Albert Museum. It is only some 9 ft. long and only just over
24 ins. diameter, yet it weighs 234 lb. I have had heaps of tusks 9 ft.
long and 23½ ins. in diameter which weighed a mere 100 lb. to 150 lb.

Pointing to a track which in any other country would have indicated
a young cow, the headman said that its maker would be found to carry
enormous tusks. I knew this was bunkum; all he wanted was meat. But it
began to dawn on me that perhaps the elephant of Liberia were, like its
hippo, a dwarf race. This decided me to go and have a look, so off we
started.

The herd was a fairly large one and the ground soft, consequently the
tracking was easy and the speed good. All were hungering for meat. What
an appalling spectacle we would have been, as we raced along, for wise,
calm, judicious eyes not out for blood—the natives all eager, searching
the ground for tracks here and there like hounds on the trail. Some,
more enterprising, chancing ahead to find the trail. A slap on the thigh
signals this to the more tardy, while the pale-skinned man rests at the
checks, the better to carry out his deadly work when that should begin.
Watch him peering furtively through the bush in all directions, for human
eye cannot pierce the dense foliage. Far better good ears than good
eyes in this kind of country. Watch him during the checks listening. He
imagines that those terrific vibrations his dull ears faintly gather
may be caused by his quarry. How stupid he is to continue thinking so
when surrounded by living evidence that it is not so, for not one of the
native men has paused even for a second; they know monkeys when they hear
them.

All the same, these were not ordinary “monks,” they were chimpanzee,
a whole colony of them. They were very busy gathering fruit, and I
pointed my rifle at one huge old man “chimp.” Like a flash my natives
disappeared, and with such a clatter that the chimps heard and also
disappeared. I had had no intention of firing, but I almost began to
believe that I must have done it, so rapidly had the stage cleared.
However, up came the headman, relieved that the chimps had gone. I asked
him what was the matter. He told me then that chimps when in bands will
attack if fired at. I don’t believe it, but I am glad to say I have never
tested it. They looked such jolly old hairy people.

After this we pushed along faster than ever, for the day was getting on.
The quarry led us in every conceivable direction. Had I got lost or had
my natives deserted me, I could not have found my way back to the village
at all. The sun’s position did not help, it being invisible. A compass
would not have helped unless a kind of rough course had been jotted down
with the distances travelled between changes of direction.

[Illustration: A COLONY OF “CHIMPS” FRUIT-GATHERING.]

[Illustration: SMALL ELEPHANT OF LIBERIA.]

Towards evening I began to think that it was a rum go. I could see no
reason why the elephant should travel so: food appeared to be plentiful.
There were no signs of man anywhere. But the fact remains that their
signs showed that we had gained but little on them during our nine hours’
march. We had to camp for the night.

Rain during the night obliterated the tracks to some extent and made
trekking slower. We had not gone far when the unexpected happened. The
natives all stopped, listening. “Only monks,” I thought. Wrong again,
for it was elephant this time. They must have wandered round back on to
their tracks, and we happened along just in the nick of time to hear them
crossing. Had we been a few minutes earlier we should probably have had
another day’s hard going for nothing.

Some of them were quite close, making all the usual sounds of feeding
elephant. The sighs, the intestinal rumbles, the cracks, the r-r-r-r-ips
as they stripped branches, the little short suppressed trumpet notes, the
wind noises and the thuds of flapping ears—all were there.

Now, leaving the boys, I approached alone. It was astonishing how thick
the stuff seemed. I was certainly very close indeed to elephant, but
nothing could I see. I started through some bush, came out sure of seeing
something—and did so _when I lowered my eyes_. I had completely forgotten
my idea about these being dwarf elephants, and had been unconsciously
peering about for a sight at the elevation of an ordinary elephant’s top
parts; whereas here I was looking straight into the face of an elephant
_on a level with mine_ and only a matter of feet between us. At first
I thought it was a calf, and was about to withdraw when I noticed a
number of animals beyond the near one. All were the same height. None
stood over 7 ft. at the shoulder. Their ivory was minute. I withdrew to
think it over calmly. I met the headman, much too close in, and cursed
him soundly. I said there was no ivory and that I was going to look for
a bull among the main body, and that he had better keep well back. I
was intensely annoyed at his pressing up like that and also with the
appearance of the elephant. I was not so interested in the natural
history point of view then as I would be now, and the fact that these
elephant were as out of proportion to the ordinary elephant as the pigmy
hippo is to the ordinary hippo merely irritated me.

Circling round the lot I had first seen, I got up to the bigger herd,
searching vainly for a bull. I had now more leisure to examine the beasts
and to compare them one with another. I soon spotted what should have
been a fair herd bull, judging by the width of his forehead and the
taper of his tusks, but he stood scarcely 6 ins. higher than the cows
about him. His tusks were minute, but yet he had lost his baby forehead
and ears, and looked, what in fact he was, a full-blown blood. I shot
him. But here again I was at fault. I took a calm, deliberate shot at
his brain, or rather where I thought his brain ought to be, and where it
would have been in any decent elephant. But it was not there. Whether or
not he was a brainless elephant I cannot positively say, for I killed
him with the heart shot. But I am inclined to give him the benefit of
the doubt, because I subsequently found out where others of his race
kept their brains, and their situation in the head was not that of an
ordinary elephant’s. The ears were also different, although this is a
poor distinction upon which to found a pretension to difference of race,
for ears differ all over Africa. Then, the tail hairs were almost as fine
as those of giraffe. As regards bulk, I should say it would take six of
them to balance a big Lakka elephant.

I was thoroughly disgusted, but the boys were jubilant. _They_ thought
he was enormous. I said that I could not think of hunting such stuff.
The tusks looked about 10 lb.—when weighed afterwards they scaled 15
lb. each, being shorter in the hollow than I had guessed them. “Well,”
I said, “if all your elephant are like this, I shall have to pull out.”
Then came some more surprises. They said all the “red” elephant were the
size of the one I had just killed, but that the “blue” elephant were
much bigger. “And where were the ‘blue’ elephant to be found?” I asked
sarcastically; for I thought all this just the usual bosh. “There were
not many,” they said, “and they never mixed with the ‘red’ ones, but they
were huge.”

“And how big were they?” I asked. “As high as that,” pointing with their
spears to a height of about 11 ft. or 12 ft. After all, I thought, it
might be so, more especially as I had seen a pair of tusks of about 25
lb. each on the “beach”—as a shipping port is always called in West
Africa—which were reputed to have come from this country. We then camped
by the dead elephant, and the business of cutting and drying meat on
fires began.

In a way, the smallness of the elephant helped me, for the meat was soon
all cut into strips and hanging over fires, and the boys were eager for
more. Therefore I had no difficulty in getting some of them to go with me
the next day to look for the so-called “blue” elephant. I thought that
if these were as big as the natives said they were, they were probably
wanderers from the interior, where I knew normal-sized elephant lived,
having hunted them in the hinterland of the Ivory Coast.

We hunted all that day without success, but I saw the old tracks of an
ordinary elephant. These the boys said were made by a “blue” elephant.
We returned, after a long day, to the meat camp. The headman announced
his intention of accompanying me on the morrow, as his women would arrive
that evening and would take charge of the meat. Now, here is a curious
thing about Africans. If one acquires, say, a lot of meat, he tries to
get it into the charge of his wives as soon as possible. While he remains
in possession everybody cadges from him: friends, relations, everybody of
similar age, the merest acquaintances, all seem to think that he should
share the meat with them. But once the meat is handed over to his wife it
is secure. Whenever anyone asks for some he refers them to his wife. That
ends it, for nobody will cadge from a woman, knowing, I suppose, that it
would be hopeless, for if the wife were to part with any she would be
severely beaten by the husband. Yet that same husband, while still in
charge of the meat, cannot refuse to share it.

With this in view, the headman had sent a runner to the village to bring
his women to the elephant shortly after death, and in the night of the
second day they arrived. Our rather dismal little camp became quite
lively. Fires were lit all over the place, and everyone was extremely
animated. When natives have recovered from the effects of their first
gorge of meat they become very lively indeed. If they have a large
quantity of meat, requiring several days to smoke and dry it, they dance
all night. The conventional morality of their village life is cast off,
and they thoroughly enjoy themselves.

Early on the following day we were off for the big elephant. About twenty
natives attached themselves to us. We wandered about, crossing numerous
streams, until someone found tracks. If they were small I flatly refused
to follow them. Late in the afternoon a real big track of a single bull
was found. It was quite fresh and absurdly easy to follow. We soon heard
him, and nothing untoward took place. The brain was where it ought to be,
and he fell. As I anticipated, he was a normal elephant, about 10 ft. 10
ins. at the shoulder, with quite ordinary tusks weighing 31 lb. or 32 lb.
The boys thought him a monster, and asked me what I thought of “blue”
elephant. He certainly was much more nearly blue than the little red-mud
coloured ones of the day before.

As it was too late for anyone to return to the village that night we
all camped by the elephant. Being dissatisfied with the numbers of
warrantable bulls about, I decided to return to the village with the
boys. So off we set across country. We travelled and travelled, as I
imagined, straight towards the village. This was far from being the case,
as I discovered when we all stopped to examine a man-trail. It was ours.
We had been slogging it in a huge circle, and here we were back again. I
had often admired and envied the Africans for their wonderful faculty for
finding their way where apparently there was nothing to indicate it. I
have never yet been able to exactly “place” this extraordinary faculty.
They cannot explain it themselves. They simply _know_ the direction
without taking bearings or doing anything consciously. Always puzzling
over this sense which we whites have to such a poor degree, I have
watched closely leading natives scores of times. The only thing they
do, as far as I could observe, is to look at trees. Occasionally they
recognise one, _but they are not looking for landmarks_. They are quite
indifferent about the matter. Something, which we have probably lost,
leads them straight on, _even in pitch darkness_.

The occasion of which I am writing is the exception which proves the
rule, for it is the only instance of natives getting seriously lost which
has come under my observation, and that is more than twenty years of
hunting. For seriously lost we were. We wandered about in that forest
for three days. Leader after leader was tried, only to end up on our
old tracks. Food ran out. The boys had eaten all the elephant meat they
brought with them. My food was finished, but the cartridges were not,
thank goodness. I remember ordering a cartridge belt from Rigby to hold
fifty rounds. He asked me what on earth I wanted with so many on it.
I said I liked them, and here was the time when it paid to have them.
For now we lived entirely on monkeys, and horrible things they are.
Tasting as they smell, with burning and singeing added, they are the most
revolting food it has ever been my bad luck to have eaten.

At the end of the third day I thought to myself that something would have
to be done. This kind of thing would end in someone getting “done in”
with exhaustion. As it seemed to me that I should be the first to drop
out, it appeared to be up to me to do something. But what? I had not the
foggiest notion where we were. But one thing I knew: water runs downhill.
Brooklets run down into streams, streams down into rivers, rivers to
seas. Next morning I took a hand. I made the boys follow scrupulously the
winding bed of the first stream we came to. It joined a larger one; we
followed that. Not a word of remonstrance would I listen to, nor would
I tolerate any short cuts. At length we reached a large river, and I
was relieved to see that they all recognised it. Did they “savvy” it?
I asked. Yes, rather. So I sat down for a rest. The boys were having a
fearful argument about something. It appeared that some held that our
village lay up-stream, others that it was down-stream. They came to me
to settle it. I asked the up-streamers to come out; they numbered seven.
I counted the down-streamers; they numbered nine. I said: “The village
lies down-stream”; and by the merest hazard it did.

The village from which I had done so much hunting and where I was so
profusely “fêted” had acquired great riches with the meat I had given the
people. In spite of this, or, perhaps, because of this, they showed great
opposition to my going. At first I paid no attention to their protests,
continuing calmly my preparations for departure, weighing and marking my
ivory, etc. When my loads were ready I announced my intention of leaving
on the morrow. This was wrong. What I should have done was to have kept
my intention entirely to myself, then suddenly to have fallen in the
boys, shouldered the loads and marched off. All would then have been well.

As it was, when the morrow came the boys did not. They could not be
found. I could not move my loads without them.

I found the headman, accused him of playing this mean trick, and demanded
the boys. He then tried all the persuasions he could think of to get me
to stay. He offered me any women I fancied. That is always the first
inducement in the African mind. Slaves, food, anything I wanted if I
would only stay.

I got angry and cursed him and threatened to shoot up the town. He said
quietly that the king was coming and I could talk to him.

[Illustration: THE PALAVER WITH THE KING.

_The boy in the foreground, interpreting, was nearly eaten by the
natives, who pleaded, in excuse, that it was their custom to eat all of
that tribe that they came across._]

Meanwhile I had to wait. I was simply furious. The suspicion that they
were after my ivory kept poisoning my mind. I argued with myself that
they knew the value of ivory; that they knew what a lot of gin and
“trade” they would get if they took my tusks to the coast. And a white
man, a hunter of elephants, “done in,” what would it matter? People would
say: “Serve him right,” probably. Then they wanted my rifle. They had
seen it kill elephant with one shot. It had wonderful medicine. Curious
how near we are to the primitive. I thought of shooting someone; I
actually wished to shoot someone. But that would not have helped matters.
Then sense and experience came to help me and—I laughed. As soon as I
laughed they laughed. I felt master of the situation.

Where was the king? Drinking beer. Let me talk to him.

I sat down in front of my hut. In a short time the king arrived with an
escort of some forty guns. He seated himself in front of a hut directly
across the street from me. I wanted to shake hands with him, but I did
not wish to take my rifle with me, nor did I wish to leave it behind me,
as it was to play a part in the comedy I had thought out.

No one could reach me from the back, as I leant against the wall of the
hut. Therefore I assumed a belligerent attitude from the first, demanding
to know why all my boys had been taken. The old king was, luckily, still
sober—it being early in the day—and very calm and dignified. When I
had stated my demand he started. He said that his people had shown me
elephant; that without them I could not have found them. He said his
people had treated me well. They had offered me wives of my own choosing.
Food I had never lacked. Elephant were still numerous in the bush. Why
should I wish to desert them in this manner?

I admitted that all he had said was true, but begged to point out that I
was not a black man. I could not live always there among them. White men
died when they lived too long in hot countries, and so on. Then I pointed
to the fact that I had never sold the meat of the elephant I had killed,
although I might have done so and bought slaves and guns with it. I had
given it all freely away to him among others; and now when I wanted to go
they seized my porters.

Then he tried another line. He said I could go freely if I gave him my
rifle. He said I could easily get another in my country.

I turned this down so emphatically that he switched to another line.

He said, when black men went to the coast they had to pay custom dues on
everything they took to or brought away from it. As this was entirely
a white man’s custom and yet they enforced it upon black men, putting
them in prison if they did not pay, he would be obliged to make me pay
customs on my ivory. He thought that if he and I divided it equally it
would be a fair thing. At this I could not help laughing. The king smiled
and everyone smiled. I suppose they thought I was going to pay.

But, I said, there is a difference between your country and white man’s
country. When a traveller arrives at the gates of the white man’s country
the very first thing he sees is a long building and on it the magic sign
“Customs.” Now on seeing this sign the traveller knows what lies before
him. If he objects to paying customs, or if he has not the money with
which to pay, he departs without entering that country. But when the
traveller reaches the gates of the king’s country, he looks in vain for
“customs.” Therefore, he says to himself, what a very wise and good king
rules this happy country. I will enter, for there is no “customs.” But
if, having entered the country on this understanding, the king levies
customs without having a Customs House, that traveller will recall what
he said about the king and will depart, cursing that king and spreading
his ill-fame so that no more travellers or elephant hunters will come
near him. Therefore, I ended, the whole matter resolves itself into this:
Have you a Customs House or have you not? Here I peered diligently about
as if searching among the huts. The whole lot, king, court, escort and
mob roared with laughter.

They were not done yet, though. The palaver ran its usual interminable
length. The king accused me of disposing of the pigmy hippo meat in an
illegal manner. Pigmy hippo were royal game, and every bit of it should
have been sent to him. I had him again with the same gag as the customs
one, _i.e._, that when he made a law he should write it down for everyone
to read, or if he could not write he ought to employ some boy who could.
And so on and on.

Wearied to exhaustion, I at length decided to try what a little bluff
would do. I had hoped that I would not have to use it, but it was now or
never. If it came off, and the porters were forthcoming, we could just
make the next village, hostile to the king, before dark.

Suddenly seizing my rifle I covered the king. No one moved. The king
took it very well, I must say. I said I was going to fight for my porters
and begin on the king.

He said that to fight was a silly game. However well I shot, I could not
kill more than ten of them before someone got me. I replied that that was
so, _but that no one knew if he would be among the ten or not_.

I had them. They gave it up. I kept the old king covered and told him not
to move until the porters arrived. He sent off runners at once. They came
on the run, picked up the loads and marched. I stopped a moment to shake
hands. The insatiable old rascal begged for at least some tobacco. I felt
so relieved and pleased at seeing my loads on the road at last that I
promised him some when we had caught up with the caravan.

B. told me on my arrival at the coast that during my absence in the
interior the inspector of his company had come on a visit, straight from
London. He had started from the coast with a caravan of head carriers to
visit another of their depots. He had been promptly arrested, carried
before the magistrate and fined twenty-five dollars for travelling on
the Sabbath. The fine had been demanded at once, and someone sent off to
purchase gin. The magistrate knocked the neck off a bottle, took a pull
and offered it to _the prisoner_!

B. said the inspector had been very haughty with the Liberians and that
they were out to get their own back.

It must not be thought that they are unfriendly towards whites. If
treated politely they are very nice people indeed; they will do anything
to help. But they must be treated just as if they were ordinary white
foreigners. I liked them immensely, and regretted having to leave their
country owing to the smallness of the ivory. And so ended my dealings
with the citizens of Liberia and the natives of the hinterland.

BUBA GIDA, THE LAST AFRICAN POTENTATE

Now situated in the French sphere of influence can still be found a
remarkable relic of the old slave-dealing days. The country goes by the
name of its despotic ruler, Buba Rei on maps, Buba Gida to everyone
cognisant of it. The principal town is also so called. And the whole
organisation is an example of what can be done by courage, energy, force
of character and extreme cunning allied to ferocity and cruelty; for the
redoubtable Buba Gida, the owner—body and soul—of tens of thousands of
slaves, is no scion of a kingly race. Mothered by a slave of the Lakka
tribe and fathered by a Scrub Fulani of sorts, everything he has and is
he owes entirely to his own ability.

In early life he left his humble home and started out into the wild no
man’s land with some companions of a like spirit. Slaves at all costs
were what Buba Gida and company were out for. Perhaps it was mere chance
that led them towards the Lakka country, whence Buba Gida’s mother had
been raided, or perhaps it was information from her. However that may be,
in close proximity to the Lakka country they found what they were looking
for—a fine country, well watered and obviously good for cattle. Pagan
Lakkas and other bush tribes were in plenty within raiding distance.
Their first raid set them up in labour. Their tiny camp became a village.
More raids were planned and carried out with invariable success. The
village became a town.

[Illustration: THE SILENT TOWN: VULTURES THE ONLY SCAVENGERS.]

[Illustration: OUTSIDE THE WALLS.]

Buba now ruled supreme. By pursuing the system of “putting away” all
those who obstructed him, judiciously mixed with generous treatment in
the matter of women—to acquire which the African will do anything—he
obtained such a power over his people that none, not even the white man,
has been able to overthrow it.

I will now try to describe how my companion and I fared when the pursuit
of elephants took us into Buba Gida’s country. To reach this country we
traversed some very rich cattle districts inhabited by Fulani, a tribe
akin to the Somals. At Buba Gida’s boundary we were met by some forty or
fifty of his smaller fry, for it must be understood that we were simple
elephant hunters and not “big” white men. Everything about us was known
to Buba Gida days before our arrival at his boundary by his wonderful
system of intelligence. We remembered noticing casual horsemen about our
caravan; they were Buba Gida’s intelligence. From the boundary to the
king’s town was six days’ march, and the headman of every village we
slept at was under orders to escort us to Buba Rei. As each headman in
turn was escorted by five or six men, all being mounted, it will be seen
that we formed quite a little army by the time we got to the capital. Had
we been “big” white men, doubtless we should have been several hundred
strong by that time. At the end of the sixth day we were camped within
sight of the mysterious city. And mysterious it certainly is, for,
surrounded as it is by well-known, if somewhat distant countries, and
within 120 miles of a large Government post, nothing is known of this
curious mediæval city or its despotic tyrant, Buba Gida; and yet every
white man wishes to know more about it. Countless thousands of questions
must have been asked about Buba Gida. He even visits the Government
station Garua; and sufficiently foolish to us he appears when he does so,
for he goes with thousands of followers, women and men. Special beds and
tents are carried with all kinds of paraphernalia; in fact, anything for
show. He even must buy the whole contents of the stores he honours with a
visit, much of them quite useless to him.

It was not clear to us why we had to camp so near the city, so we asked
why we did not proceed. The answer was that the king had ordered us to
sleep at that spot. There are few remaining places in Africa where a
white man’s actions are governed by a black man’s wishes. Abyssinia under
Menelik was one. Liberia and Buba Rei are still among them.

On the following morning we all sallied forth in our very best paint. As
all the riding horses are stallions and some of them alarmingly vicious,
and all of them ready at any time to bite, kick, strike, rear and prance,
and, indeed, taught to do so, it is easy to imagine the scene as we drew
near the capital. Right in the thick of it, in the middle of the prancing
_mêlée_, on a very high rakish-looking stallion over which he appeared to
have no control, was a gentleman with a very white and anxious face. He
seemed to be somewhat insecurely seated on a flat saddle and appeared to
be trying to do something to his horse by means of a snaffle. I know all
this because I was he. My companion looked much more at ease, but I must
confess I felt thoroughly alarmed lest I should fall off and disgrace the
whole show. This will be better understood when I explain that all the
riders except ourselves were in saddles with great high horns in front
and high canties behind. Most of them clung openly to the horns; and
besides this, their mounts were bitted Arab fashion, with great spades
and a ring round the lower jaw, so that they really had control over
their beasts.

[Illustration: COMMANDERS OF REGIMENTS.]

[Illustration: CHIEFS IN ARMOUR WITH ARROW-PROOF QUILTS.]

Luckily, I did not fall off, and presently we halted about a mile from
one of the great gates in the wall which surrounds the town. We were
told we should have to wait here until the king gave the order to enter.
After waiting about two hours—done chiefly to impress the people with the
greatness of the king, to see whom even the white men had to wait—a mob
of mounted men about two hundred strong was seen to come forth from the
city gate and to approach. We now hastily mounted, and I remember having
more trouble with my infernal beast. The two opposing bodies of horsemen
now began to approach one another until there remained perhaps forty
yards separating us. Some very impressive speeches were made. Luckily for
us, the king had lent us a speech-maker, and he held up our end in a very
creditable manner, judging by the amount of talking he did. I thought
it would never end, my horse becoming more and more restive. Every time
he squealed and bit one of the neighbouring horses the whole mob began
playing up. I was awfully afraid he might take charge and go barging in
among the knights, for such they were. Genuine knights—if not in armour,
at any rate all clothed in arrow-proof quilted cloth—horses and all. On
their heads the knights had bright native iron caskets. They carried long
bamboo spears with iron heads. At their sides were Arab swords. Beneath
the bright little caskets were faces of such revolting ugliness and
ferocity as to be almost ludicrous. We had the speeches of the opposition
translated to us, and the gist of them was to the effect that we were
about to have the honour of entering the town of the greatest king on
earth—a king who was, if not immortal, next door to it, and so on. Then
we were requested to count the knights. Before we had time to count more
than twenty or so we were told that they numbered 500. An obvious lie;
200 at the outside. Then we were told that each of these knights had
under him 500 other knights, armed and mounted as he was. After that our
attention was drawn to a foot rabble in leopard skins and large quivers
full of arrows. I had failed to notice these before owing to anxiety
about my steed’s capers. They looked a pretty nasty crowd. Never have I
seen so many hideous men together.

After the speeches we proceeded slowly towards the gates, gallopers
continuously going off to report progress to the king. The wall totally
encloses the town, and the gates are wide enough to allow of six men
riding abreast. The wall itself is perhaps 20 ft. high and made of
sun-baked mud. The thickness at the gateway is about 50 ft., but this is
chiefly to impress the visitor and to shelter the guard. The rest of the
wall is no more than perhaps 6 ft. at the base.

The buildings in the town are simply the ordinary grass and
mud-and-wattle huts of that part of Africa, any more pretentious style
of architecture not being allowed. Even pretentious or costly clothing,
ornaments or style of any sort are forbidden. Music is forbidden. The
drinking of intoxicants within the town is punishable by death. Outside
it is allowed. No child must cry, none may laugh loudly or sing or shout.
Noises of any sort are forbidden in this dismal city. The filth is
indescribable. The obvious healthiness of its dwellers may be due to the
fact that Buba Gida has every one of them out of it hard at work in his
immense plantations every day and all day long, and also perhaps to the
fact that everyone is well nourished. Where all belongs to the king who
but he can make a ring in corn! Who but he can raise the cost of living!
The only approach to a grumble that we heard from his people was the wish
that they might own their own children.

Near about the centre of the town a great high inner wall became visible.
This, we were informed, surrounded the king and his palaces. Few townsmen
had ever been inside, and the king seldom comes out. Under this wall
our quarters were situated, two unpretentious grass huts. In front of
our huts, besides our usual ration, there were mountains of prepared
foods. The things for us two white men would have fed thirty. With the
food came a taster. That is a man who, by tasting everything before
you, thereby guarantees it free from poison. This is the usual thing in
Africa. Generally the chief of the village does it. Everything was most
comfortable, and we began to think highly of our chances of coming to
some arrangement with the king about elephant hunting. We were left alone
for about two hours.

When the time came for our audience we were led through streets partly
round the wall, and it became evident that the inner wall encircled an
enormous area. It was from 40 ft. to 50 ft. high, and enormously thick at
the base and in very good repair. Arrived at the gate itself, we got some
idea of the immense thickness of the walls, the opening in them forming
a high and very long guard-room, with huge doors of black timber at each
end. This guard-room was filled with men—soldiers I suppose they were.

[Illustration: AN ENORMOUS MAN, FULLY SEVEN FEET HIGH, ROSE FROM A PILE
OF RAGS AND EXTENDED HIS RIGHT HAND, SWINGING A STRING OF HUGE AMBER
BEADS IN THE OTHER.]

[Illustration: WHENEVER THE KING SNEEZES, COUGHS OR SPITS THE ATTENDANT
SLAVES BREAK INTO LOUD WAILING.]

Arrived at the inner doors we were halted. Our guide entered alone. After
some twenty minutes’ waiting—again done to impress, I suppose—a slave
appeared at the door and beckoned us in. He talked in a whisper and was
almost nude. We entered and the great doors were closed behind us. Now we
were in a courtyard with more huge doors in front of us. Another wait,
but shorter. Presently appears our guide. Up till now he had seemed to
us to be rather an important fellow. He had been decently dressed, at
all events. But now here he was as nude as the other slaves. Another of
the rules of this strange court. Everyone, barring white men, but not
excepting the king’s own sons, must approach the Presence almost nude,
_and on all fours_. They must never look at the king’s face, but must
keep their foreheads to the ground. And you can bet these rules are
strictly observed. Even our man—who must be in and out continually—was
several shades more ashen than when outside. Our interpreter then
stripped himself, and a very trembly wretch he looked. At last all was
ready for our entry to the Presence. We passed through the door into
a large and spotlessly clean courtyard. Along one side ran what was
evidently the reception house, a lofty building beautifully thatched,
with a low verandah. Lolling on a pile of cushions on the floor of the
verandah was a huge and very black negro. We walked quickly towards him,
passing two nude slaves with their heads glued to the ground, while our
interpreter and the functionary crawled on all fours behind us.

This at last was Buba Gida, and a very impressive creature he looked. As
we drew near he got up. A fine specimen indeed, 7 ft. high if an inch,
and wide in proportion. Soft, of course, but otherwise in fine condition.
He extended a hand like a bath sponge for size and almost as flabby,
swinging a string of enormous amber beads in the other. Having shaken
hands white-man fashion, he waved us to two European chairs while he
subsided on his cushions and commenced to stoke up a small charcoal fire,
throwing incense on to it. Silence had the stage for some moments and
then the king sneezed. At once there was a wail from the two bowed slaves
in the middle of the courtyard. This was instantly taken up and drowned
by a chorus of wails from the precincts. Whenever, throughout all our
interviews, the king thought we were approaching the familiar or asking
awkward questions, he would sneeze or cough or spit, or even clear his
throat, and there would follow this uproar from his wailing chorus.

The first question he asked was about our rifles. He was very anxious to
buy them. We were overjoyed to hear that he would be pleased to help us
to a good elephant country, at the same time mentioning the fact that he
was very fond of ivory.

Presently the conversation drifted to fever. And here we were astounded
to find that he really appeared to believe that he was immortal. He
naïvely told us he was a great friend of God’s, and that sickness of
any sort never touched him. After many polite speeches on both sides we
departed from our first visit to this remarkable man.

BUBA GIDA AND THE LAKKAS

After the usual interminable delays inseparable from dealings with
African potentates, we were at last ready for the trek to our hunting
grounds. Report had it that these lay fifteen days’ march to the south.
The king had been most generous. He lavished upon us food, carriers,
guides, horses and even milk-cows to accompany us. He sent with us his
most renowned elephant hunters, from whom I tried to get information
regarding the country we were going to. The tales of countless numbers
of immense elephant told us by Buba Gida himself we frankly disbelieved,
as he had shown us forest tusks from his ivory store as having come from
the Lakka country, which we knew lay well to the east of the great forest
belt. There is no mistaking the difference between forest ivory and that
from grass or scrub bush country, and, from all accounts, the Lakka
country was of the latter description.

For some twelve days or so we followed narrow winding native trails
through good but almost totally deserted country. Only on two occasions
did we camp by human habitations, and these were merely outposts of
Buba Gida’s. The contrast between this well watered and healthy but
uninhabited country and the miles of plantations and teeming thousands of
the immediate vicinity of Buba Rei was most striking. Enquiry elicited
the fact that all the former inhabitants of these rolling plains had
been “gathered in” by Buba Gida, and that he was surrounded similarly on
all sides by broad uninhabited belts. Game was wild and scarce. Giraffe,
haartebeeste and oribi we saw in the flesh, while pig and buffalo tracks
were infrequently met. Lion we heard once only. Buba’s hunters told us
that at one time elephant were numerous all over this country. One of
them showed us where he had killed his last one. I asked him what reward
he had got from the king. He told me that the tusks were only so high,
indicating a length of about 3 ft., which would correspond to a weight
of perhaps 20 lbs. or 25 lbs. Continuing he said what other king would
have given him so much as Baba (_i.e._, Father), for, in spite of the
smallness of the tusks, Baba had given him another woman, making his
fourth, and had filled his hut with corn sufficient to keep him drunk
on beer for two months. Few indeed are the Sovereigns who could have
rewarded their gamekeeper in such a fashion. This man was firmly loyal
to his king, and it may be of interest to enquire into this loyalty to a
cruel and despotic tyrant, for it was shared by all of his subjects, as
far as we could see.

Now, in this kingdom everyone and everything belongs to the king. He
farms out his female slaves to all and sundry as rewards for meritorious
services rendered the king. All children born as a result of these
operations belong to the king, just as the parents do. It must be
remembered that this is “domestic” slavery and not at all the horrible
affair commercial slavery once was. There is no export of slaves, as
the coming of the white man has prevented it. Domestic slavery entails
upon the master certain duties towards the slave. Should the slave
work well and faithfully for the master, the latter is bound to find
for him a wife. The slave may, should he choose, become a freeman
after sufficiently long and good service. At any time, should he
possess sufficient intelligence to embrace the Mohammedan religion, he
automatically becomes a freeman, for it is forbidden to enslave one of
the Faith, and Buba Gida himself was a Mohammedan. To my mind the only
explanation of the undoubted devotion shown by slaves to their masters
is—women.

[Illustration: IN BUBA REI.]

[Illustration: A FOOT SOLDIER.]

To the African a wife is everything. It is equivalent in Western life to
having a living pension bestowed on you. For your wife builds your house,
provides wood and water, grows your food, makes the cooking utensils,
mats, beds, etc., not only for your use, but also for sale. _You_ sell
them and pocket the proceeds. Not only this, for she brews beer from the
corn which she grows, and _you_ drink it. She drinks it and likes it,
too, but naturally, you see that she does not overdo it. Then, again, she
bears you children, who also work for you, and you sell the females. It
really amounts to selling, although it is very bad manners to speak of
the transaction as such. Marriage they call it, and dowry they call the
price paid. Here again you are the lucky recipient of this dowry, and not
the girl. True, you have to provide your daughter with certain things,
such as a few mats, cloths, cooking pots, etc., most of which your wife
makes. From all this it will be seen what very desirable creatures women
are in Africa. There, as elsewhere, will be found bad wives, but where
we have to grin and bear them, or divorce them, or be divorced by them,
the African can send his back to her father and demand her sister in
her place. This procedure is only resorted to in the case of a wife
failing to bear children; any other fault, such as flirting, nagging,
quarrelling, impudence, neglect or laziness, being cured at home by means
best known to themselves. It is not so surprising, after all, that a man
will work for the better part of his life to serve a master who will, in
the course of time, bestow upon him that priceless possession—a wife.

So far our attempts to gain the confidence of our escort had always been
met with great reserve on their part. In the evenings round the camp
fire is where the African usually unburdens himself, but our lot had
evidently been warned not to open their mouths to the white men. These
orders they very faithfully obeyed until we approached the boundaries
of what might be called Buba Gida’s sphere of influence. Gradually they
became less secretive, and we began to hear of strange doings. In a
moment of excitement, brought on by the death of a fine buck, one of the
old elephant hunters disclosed to me that the king’s people were in the
habit of raiding slaves from the Lakka country. As we would enter this
country in another day or two’s march for the peaceful purpose of hunting
elephants, and as I hoped for the usual and invaluable help from the
natives, this news was rather disconcerting, accompanied as we were by
fifty or sixty slavers. In reply to the question, What will the natives
do when they see us? came the cheering reply, Run like hell!

Where elephant frequent settled country, and especially where they are
in the habit of visiting plantations, it is essential for the hunter to
be on the most friendly terms with the natives. He must at all costs
avoid frightening them. The natural suspicion with which all strangers
are regarded must somehow be allayed. Generally speaking, the hunter’s
reputation precedes him from country to country, and, if that reputation
be a good one, he is welcomed and helped. Only when tribes are at serious
war with each other is there a break in this system of intelligence.

On entering the Lakkas’ country, therefore, we were severely handicapped,
firstly, by not having previously visited either it or its neighbours,
and, secondly by having as our safari a villainous band of slave-raiders,
already well known as such to the Lakkas. I anticipated trouble, not so
much from the natives as from our own band of thieves. I could see that
it would be necessary to take the first opportunity of impressing upon
the king’s people in as forcible a manner as possible that we white men
were running the show and not they.

To my astonishment, on arriving at the first Lakka village we _and our
raiders_ were received in quite a friendly way. On enquiring into this,
I found that this section of the Lakkas admitted allegiance to Buba Gida
and were at war with the section further on, where we hoped to meet with
elephant. Hence our welcome.

A chance to assert ourselves occurred on the first day of our arrival
among the Lakkas, for no sooner had the camp been fixed up than our
merry band had a Lakka youth caught and bound and heavily guarded. On
enquiring into this affair it transpired that this youth had been taken
in a previous raid, but had escaped and returned to his country. We had
the lad straight away before us, asked him if he wished to go back to
Buba Gida, and, on his saying that this was the last thing he desired,
at once liberated him. He did not wait to see what else might happen; he
bolted. Of course, the king’s people were furious with us. We, on our
part, were thoroughly disgusted with Buba Gida for having designed to
carry on his dirty work under the cloak of respectability afforded by the
presence of two Englishmen on a shooting trip. We had all of them before
us, and explained that the very first time we found any one of them
attempting anything in the slaving line we would tie him up and march
him straight to the nearest military post. We let them see that we were
thoroughly determined to take complete command of the expedition from now
on, and had little further trouble from them. Later on, it is true, we
were annoyed to find that small native boys attached themselves as camp
followers to our safari. They rather embarrassed us by saying that they
wished to go with us, but they quickly disappeared when their probable
future was explained to them. I reckon that we must have spoiled Buba
Gida’s scheme to the extent of at least a round dozen of valuable slaves.

After all our trekking and the fussing with semi-civilised Africans,
it was a great relief to find ourselves one day at the entrance to a
village of the real genuine wild man. We had been passing through No
Man’s Land—as we may call the neutral zone between tribes at war—for the
last few hours. As the grass was high at this season we had not been
spotted, and our arrival at the village was a complete surprise. Amid
terrific excitement women and children rushed for the bush, fowls raced
about, dogs barked, while the young men appeared from the huts with their
shields and spears, and faces dangerously scared. This is the moment of
all others when anything but a perfectly tranquil outward appearance
generally precipitates a tragedy. Either a native bloods his spear or
arrow in the body of one of the visitors or some strung-up visitor fires
his gun, when the situation gets out of hand at once. At these tense
moments the appearance of a perfectly cool white man, for preference
unarmed, acts in a most extraordinary manner. But duck or dodge, or get
close to cover, or put up your rifle, and the thing is spoiled. There
is no finer instance of this than when Boyd-Alexander went to visit
the Sudan chief who had sworn to do him in. Without rifle or escort
Boyd-Alexander voluntarily strolled up to this man’s stronghold, knowing,
as he must have done, having been warned by the Sudan authorities, that
his only chance was to appear perfectly unafraid, or to avoid the country
altogether. He visited the chief and, in due course, left the village,
closely followed by him. In full view of the inhabitants of his village
it was certainly “up to” the chief to show his hand, and I am convinced
that he was on the very point of murdering Boyd-Alexander when he turned
a perfectly unmoved face upon the chief and fixed him with a steady look.
The chief slunk back to his village, while Boyd-Alexander pursued his
way. From those who can read between the lines his description in “From
the Niger to the Nile” of this little incident is an epic.

[Illustration: LAKKAS, SHY AND NERVOUS.]

[Illustration: BUBA GIDA’S ELEPHANT HUNTERS.]

On the occasion of our first introduction to the Lakkas luckily nothing
serious happened. After a few seconds of very nervous demonstrating with
spears and shields, our friends-to-be rushed off in a panic, one fat
youth getting a spear crossed between his legs and falling flat. As we
required a guide, and as our only chance of getting one was to seize
him, we secured him before he had quite recovered. He at once showed his
sense by yielding quietly, although he must have been in an awful funk.
This lad eventually became our voluntary guide and introducer, but for
the moment we were compelled to hold him prisoner. Keeping a sharp eye
on our ruffians to see that they took nothing from the huts, we passed
through and finally reached the village of a man who was supposed to be
the best able to show us elephant. The village, of course, was deserted,
so we pitched camp bang in the centre of it. We also got our captive to
shout to his friends that all was well, that we were friends and had come
to hunt elephant only. This latter statement required some believing,
judging by the time it took to get any answer to our overtures—which
was not surprising, accompanied as we were by notorious slavers. But at
last an old woman came, nosed about a bit, and left again, returning
presently with the man we wanted. I have often admired the infinite
capacity of the African to take things as they come with composure, but
never more so than on this occasion. Here was his village in the hands
of his enemies, added to this the complication and anxiety caused by
the presence in their midst of two white men. So far, his dealings with
white men had been anything but pleasant—a German military expedition
had passed through. Yet here he was, ready for anything that might turn
up, unarmed and with a face of brass—for a day or so willing to please,
but, above all, willing to speed the parting guest. Elephants? Rather!
Hundreds of them, all round So-and-So’s village fifteen miles further on.
None here? Oh, no! They were here, but all have gone to ⸺. And what about
those tracks we saw as we neared his village? Oh! those were made by some
elephant which came from ⸺, but which returned to ⸺ the next morning.

It was obvious that this eagerness to get rid of us would last just as
long as we remained unwelcome; that is, until we had killed an elephant
and shared the meat with the natives. After that event relations might
reasonably be expected to become more cordial, provided that meanwhile
we could avoid fighting in any shape or form. Now, this avoiding of
fighting must necessarily depend largely on the natives themselves, for
of course if one is attacked one must defend oneself. Especially so among
these Lakkas was this the case, for they had no powerful chiefs whom they
obeyed. Indeed, they were what my companion and myself called, loosely
enough, I dare say, Bolsheviks. Every man was out for himself, and to
hell with everything else. No authority of any kind was obeyed. And to
this total lack of cohesion or combination we undoubtedly owed the fact
that we were not attacked seriously before we became friendly with them.
They had developed the art of running away to a fine point by storing
their grain and beer-making appliances in the thick part of the bush, by
building huts, the loss of which by fire at the hands of an enemy would
occasion least labour to repair, by keeping all livestock, such as goats
and sheep, tethered at a convenient distance from the village, and in
many other ways assisting their one trump card—instant flight.

Few people who have not experienced it can have any conception of how
effective such a “barrage” can be. You perhaps wish to traverse the
country. You arrive at a village. Nobody there. You proceed along a path
which seems to lead in the direction in which you wish to go. It lands
you in another deserted village. Now you have to camp, and water has to
be found. Sometimes in the dry season this may be miles from the camp.
The drawers of water must be escorted. Then you wish to purchase food
for your carriers. No one to sell it. You think to take it and leave the
value in kind in its place, only to discover that no food of any kind is
kept in the village. All this time not a soul is seen or even heard. You
give it up and pass on to some actively hostile or friendly tribe, as the
case may be.

As we appeared to be so unwelcome in this village we decided to move on
the next day. The chief man of the village promised to provide us with a
guide to the village where elephant were reported as visiting the gardens
every night. Anxious as he was to get rid of us, we reasoned that, to
attain that object, he would surely provide the guide or lead us himself.
We consequently liberated our captive guide, loading him with presents
and promising him mountains of meat when and wherever we should kill an
elephant if he would come to claim it. He stayed around for some time,
and I began to hope that he would accompany us further, but he presently
disappeared.

On the morrow our reasoning about the guide was completely confounded,
as white men’s reasoning so often is when applied to African affairs.
No guide was forthcoming, nor could the village headman be found. The
village was once more completely deserted. As, however, we had been able
to get the general direction from the headman before he went to bush, we
broke camp and took a likely-looking path.

After much wandering from one deserted village to another we arrived in
the afternoon at a large one on the edge of a slough. As usual there was
not a soul to be seen, but I have no doubt that our every movement was
being carefully watched. On the march some kob had been shot and a good
portion of the meat reserved for any native who might venture to approach
us. After we had had our meal an old man came in. He was taken no notice
of by anybody—far the best way to allay suspicion. When he seemed more
at his ease I gave him some buck meat. He took it and at once began to
cook it, as he had seen it cut from a leg with the skin still on it. It
was unlikely, therefore, to be poisoned, and besides, if he took the meat
away with him he would have to share it with others. To avoid this he
evidently purposed eating it in our camp.

When he had fairly got the taste of meat on his palate, I got the
interpreter to work on him about elephant. At first he said there were
none. We did not worry him, although we knew this to be a lie, as we
had seen recent tracks that day. After some time he volunteered the
information that elephant had been in the gardens the night before.
I said to him that I thought I would go and kill one or two, in as
indifferent a tone as I could, and that if he cared to come along he
would certainly get some meat. He became quite excited then, saying he
would fetch me a man who would show me where the elephant had been eating
the corn in the night. Off he hurried and soon came back with several
men. We were ready for them, and as they preceded us some of them ran on
ahead to pick up the freshest tracks, blowing as they went their curious
little signalling whistles. With these whistles they can talk over quite
a distance—in fact, it is a sort of short-range wireless telegraph. We
found it subsequently of great assistance, as the notes of these whistles
were familiar to elephant, and they appeared not to mind them in the
least.

Although the sun was already half-way between the vertical and the
sundown, we judged from the air of suppressed excitement about our
guides that the game was not far off. This surmise proved to be correct,
for about a mile from our camp we entered a large plantation literally
ploughed up by elephant. My companion, who was naturally the most
stoical of men, showed signs of great interest. This was his first safari
in real wild country, and he had never yet seen a wild elephant. All the
tracks were those of bulls, and some of them were colossal. Plenty of
63-in. and 64-in. feet had been there, and one with a circumference of 70
ins. This meant that the owner had a shoulder height not far short of 12
ft. We thought that if their tusks were in proportion to their feet we
had indeed struck lucky.

The elephant had evidently been visiting this plantation nightly for
some time, and the damage must have appeared terrible in the eyes of the
owners. Bananas had been stripped, broken off, or completely uprooted.
Sugar cane ceased to exist. Much of the millet had been eaten and more
trampled down. But it was the ground-nuts which had suffered most.
These nuts grow in clusters on the roots of a clover-like plant and are
barely covered with soil. The shell is quite fragile and cracks on the
least pressure being applied. When it is remembered that the foot of an
elephant covers some two square feet of ground, and that he has four
of them, and that when feeding he is seldom still for long, one begins
faintly to appreciate the devastating effect two or three dozen of them
would have on any garden.

Wasting no more time than was necessary to unravel the tracks, we
were soon hot on the trail of a large bull. This trail led us among
other gardens for a time, all similarly raided. But presently we left
cultivation and plunged into high bush, fairly dense in parts, with long
grass in the more open places. I stopped and told the crowd of natives
who had tagged themselves on to us that no one was to follow us on any
account, hinting with my rifle what would happen if they did so. Then
we took with us one native and followed the trail. In a very short time
we heard noises ahead of us. We stopped to listen. Sure enough it was
elephant. Leaving the native, we walked carefully but rapidly toward
the noises. It had been arranged between us that, as I had had previous
experience of this game, I was to do the shooting, while my companion
picked up what tips he could. I was leading when I suddenly saw through
the clearer ground-stems of the bush the feet and parts of the legs of a
motionless elephant. At the same time the noises we had been approaching
appeared to come from beyond this quiet elephant. A glance through the
leaves revealed nothing of his body. This was awkward. He was only a
few paces distant, and the wind was all over the place, as is usual in
thick stuff. If we ran into him and killed him the chances were that
the shot would stampede the others. And then, he might have little or
no ivory, although his legs and feet were massive enough. Relying on
these elephants being quite familiar with human smell, I slipped round
behind him, making plenty of unavoidable noise, and so got between him
and the noisy bunch. We were rewarded for this manœuvre by reaching an
opening in the bush which gave us not only a view of the noisy ones, but
also a glance at our first friend as he moved off. This glance showed
that he had short but thick ivory. I instantly put a shot into him and
another into what appeared to be the largest among the noisy ones. Both
were heart shots, as in this type of bush the lower half of an elephant
is generally more clearly disclosed than the upper half. At the shot
there was the usual terrific commotion, crashing trees and dust. Hot
on the vanishing sterns we raced and jumped to a standstill, face to
face with the first elephant I had fired at. Head on, there he stood,
perfectly motionless, about ten yards away. To me, of course, he was
merely a stricken animal and would topple over in a few moments; but to
my companion he must have appeared quite sufficiently grim and menacing.
I dropped him with the frontal brain shot, and showed my companion the
direction and elevation for this shot, and then off we raced again on the
trail of the others. We soon came upon the second elephant; he was down,
but not yet quite dead. As he raised his head my companion tried a shot
at his brain with his ·450, but failed to find it. I finished him with a
·318.

Leaving W. to wait for the natives, I tried on alone. I had not gone a
quarter of a mile when I caught sight of a large bull elephant. He was
moving towards an abandoned plantation through nice open stuff, and had I
been able to reach him before he arrived at the densely bushed plantation
I would have got him easily. But he reached and disappeared into the
thick stuff without offering a chance. One would imagine that so massive
an animal would leave behind him a passage clear enough for a man to
pass along with ease and speed. This is by no means the case; everything
rises up and closes in behind him again, and the trail remains almost as
difficult to follow as before. I plunged into the horrible stuff and was
soon close up to his stern. All I could do was to keep close up and wait
until either we reached an open patch, when I might be able to range up
alongside, or until he turned so as to give a chance at the brain. The
rifle cartridge is not yet invented which will rake a full-grown elephant
from stern to vitals.

[Illustration: HE DISAPPEARED INTO THE THICK STUFF.]

[Illustration: THERE HE WAS NOW FACING ME.]

As I stumbled and clambered and pushed and sweated along behind this
fellow he suddenly stopped, stood for an instant, then threw his head
up, backed sharply towards me and to my left, at the same time bringing
his front end round with a swing, and there he was now facing me. This
manœuvre was so unexpected and done so swiftly—all in one movement, as
it were—as to be perfectly amazing. The transformation from that massive
but rather ridiculous-looking stern to the much higher head, with its
broad forehead, gleaming tusks and squirming trunk, was so sudden and
disconcerting that I missed the brain and had barely time to reload and
fire again—this time into his body and from the hip, with the muzzle
perhaps only a few inches from his hide—as he rushed over the very spot I
had occupied an instant before. Whew! But I thought I had him, although I
suspected I had placed my shot too low. This was wrong, for I just then
heard a crash and knew he was down. He was stone dead when I reached
him. It was almost sundown, and I called up the natives. W. came with
them. I was very exhausted and thirsty, having done no elephant hunting
since before the war, so we demanded beer from the Lakkas, who were now
our bosom friends. This was soon forthcoming from the bush, and very
refreshing we both found it. We had three very large elephants, which
would supply everyone with meat, and we expected that it would bring the
natives in from other parts with further news of elephant. The ivory was
very disappointing; it was of good quality, but very short and hollow.
After the death of the first elephant, runners had gone to bring up the
safari to a nearer village, so that we had not the long and deadly trek
so common after an elephant hunt. In fact, we had barely gone a mile when
we saw the welcome reflection of our fires on the trees, and we were soon
as comfortable as possible.

After a substantial meal of buck-meat and rice, I asked W. what his
impressions had been like. He told me the most vivid occurred when I
fired the first shot. He said it appeared for all the world as if the
elephant were motionless and the trees rushing past them.

As anticipated, the Lakkas became much more friendly after enjoying
such mountains of meat, to say nothing of the riddance of the marauders
from their gardens. They never became of very much use to us in the
capacity of carriers, and always bolted to the bush when the subject was
mentioned. Even when we offered lavish payment in trade goods for the
carrying of our ivory from one village to another they invariably bolted.
They could never quite trust our following, I think.

We hunted elephant for some time in this country. There were numerous
bull herds scattered about, living chiefly upon native plantations,
and we ridded the Lakkas of a fair number, although the nature of the
country was against big bags. When the time came for us to return to
Buba Rei to get our canoes we parted firm friends with the Lakkas. The
return journey was accomplished without incident more alarming than a
poor abortive attempt by some Lakkas to spear some of our following. No
one was hurt, and we were overjoyed to receive news while on the return
journey that our canoes had arrived. The short rains had begun, and we
had some trouble crossing some of the rivers. We could now begin the real
expedition, which had as its object the ascent of the practically unknown
and quite unexplored Bahr Aouck.

On our arrival at Buba Rei for the second time we again visited the king
to thank him for all he had done for us. This time relations were rather
frigid. To begin with, the king remained lolling on his couch when he
received us. He had, of course, heard all about our refusing to allow any
“recruiting” of slaves to be carried out, and I daresay he was furious
with us. He remained polite but cold, and we noticed a great falling
off in the presents of food, etc., which are demanded by custom. Among
other things we were distinctly annoyed to find that we were classed
by the king as third-class white men. To Buba Gida there were three
classes of European. In the first category were French governors, French
administrators, and French military officers. For these sweet champagne
was forthcoming, in quantities to suit the individual importance of the
visitor. Class two comprised minor French officials, important American
or English travellers, scientific expeditions, surveys, etc.; these got
whisky, while ginger beer was reserved for elephant hunters, clerks, or
small commercial people. We were Ginger Beerites.

In spite of this we calculated what we owed the king, and paid him by
presenting him with three tusks. He seemed only tolerably pleased with
these. It was with a feeling of relief that we departed from Buba Rei and
its atmosphere of intrigue and cruelty.

XII

THE ASCENT OF THE BAHR AOUCK

It was from native sources that I first heard of the Bahr Aouck. While
hunting elephant both to the north and south of its junction with the
Shari River I had repeatedly heard of a large river. But I had noticed
that whenever I tried to get a native to give definite information about
this mysterious river he at once became very reserved. For some time I
treated the existence of this river as being rather mythical, until I
came across a vague reference to it in Kumm’s book on Africa. I made more
enquiries both among white men and natives, and at last I came to the
conclusion that there was nothing for it but to go and see. Some accounts
said it existed, some that it existed for some distance, but then
disappeared into the ground; some pooh-poohed its existence altogether,
while others had it that no one could penetrate in face of the opposition
that would be encountered. Another authority on the subject—he was
military governor of the whole country in which the mysterious river was
supposed to exist—held the view that all the remnants of the Khalifa’s
die-hards and the riff-raff from all parts had a kind of last stronghold
on this river, and that nothing short of a well-equipped military
expedition could go through. Another account said there was no water
during the dry season.

All these conflicting accounts proved to be wrong. There was enough water
to float a river steamer at the height of the dry season. There were no
die-hards or riff-raff of any sort—indeed, there were no inhabitants at
all, for the very good reason that the whole country became inundated
during the wet season. And as for its disappearance into the ground, all
that we who ascended it can say is that it was not doing it while we were
there. The outbreak of war prevented any attempt on my part to probe the
mystery. Here I might as well confess that it was not so much a desire to
probe the mystery as the hope of finding some good elephant country which
decided me to attempt an ascent.

Obviously some kind of water craft would have to be employed. If there
was a river there would probably be sufficient water to float a canoe.
At the same time there would probably be shallows where even a native
canoe would ground. Native canoes are very heavy to portage, therefore
it seemed to me that Canadian canoes of the “freight” type were the only
means of transport holding out any hope of proving successful. Hence,
when the war was over, my friend W. and myself decided to try our luck.
With this end in view we ordered two canoes from the Peterborough Canoe
Company of Canada to be shipped direct to Africa from New York. One of
these canoes was 18 ft. by 44 ins., and carried an enormous amount of
stuff, while the other was smaller. Their construction was vertical strip
covered with canvas. The big one weighed 150 lb. and could be carried by
two men easily. I may say at once that these canoes were the greatest
success. We had with us quick-repair outfits, and whenever a hole was
knocked in them we patched it up in a few minutes. As regards propulsion,
they proved to be by far the cheapest form of transport I have ever had,
for one’s ordinary boys, cook, and gun-bearers could and did paddle and
push them along against the current at a rate of twenty miles a day, and
that without great fatigue, so easily do these delightful, graceful,
fine-lined and efficient little craft slip through the water. Out of all
our boys only one was what could be called a waterman; the others had no
previous experience whatever of canoes or water.

[Illustration: GALLERY FOREST AND BABOON.]

[Illustration: CAMP ON LAKE LÉRÉ.]

To reach the watershed to which our mystery river belonged—if it existed
at all—it was necessary to travel many hundreds of weary miles. First
500 miles against the current. Then a land portage of eighty miles. Then
a descent with the current of 200 miles, and then an ascent against
the current of some 450 miles. Incredible as it may seem in these days
of quick transport, this trek took four months to accomplish, and
that before reaching the beginning of the unknown river. Long before
we arrived there our scanty store of European provisions was finished,
and we lived entirely upon the country. We had left England very poorly
provided with provisions, as there were regulations still in force
prohibiting the export of foodstuffs.

On our way and while waiting for our canoes, which had got sadly delayed
among the shippers, we visited the native Sultan Buba Gida, as I
described in Chapter X. On our return from Buba’s country—where we had
some interesting shooting—we found our canoes ready for us. It did not
take us long to get our gear ready, and off we started up-stream for the
long and arduous journey before us. We made sails and fitted masts to the
canoes, as we often had a following wind, and they assisted tremendously.
W. was an accomplished waterman and steered one canoe, while I steered
the big one. So as to be handy to our fleet we had been camped on a
beautiful sand-bank while preparing for the start, and every evening we
practised the boys in paddling. When the day came, when all was stowed
neatly away, we rattled off up-stream at a great pace, passing easily any
craft on the river.

As our way now lay for hundreds of miles through more or less well-known
country, I will merely recount the incidents of more than ordinary
interest. One of these happened when we made a halt for washing clothes.
One of our boys—_who could not swim_—calmly walked into a very deep and
dangerously swift part of the river to recover his shirt which had blown
in. To his astonishment he found that he could not keep his head above
water. Judging by the expression on the face which every now and again
bobbed up at a rapidly increasing distance, this—to him—curious fact did
not seem to alarm him at all. The perfect fool kept grinning every time
his head came out. It suddenly dawned upon me that I had seen this kind
of thing before, and that the boy was really drowning. I immediately
shoved the naked headman—a clever swimmer—into the river, telling him to
save the lad. But long before he reached him the gallant W. had towed
him to the bank, where he continued to grin foolishly.

Another was when I pipped an enormous “croc.” He was floating lazily down
the centre of the current when I shot him. Hit in the brain, he happened
to float until some natives got their fish-harpoons into him. They towed
him ashore and cut him up, and there in his inside was what I had read
of in travellers’ tales, but had never before seen—a native woman’s
brass bangle. The natives of the place claimed to know this croc. well,
and even to know the name of the bangle’s former owner. The finding of
the bangle did not at all prevent the natives from eating the croc. In
connection with the finding of bangles in crocs.’ insides, a missionary
we met advanced a theory that the crocs. picked up and swallowed a lot of
these from the river bed. But he could not explain how the bangles got
there.

Throughout this expedition W. and I lived for the most part on what we
shot and on what we could buy from the natives. Almost everywhere we
got whistling teal with great ease. One shot from W.’s 12-bore would
usually provide enough for all hands. He seldom picked up less than five
or six, and once we gathered twenty-nine from a single discharge. They
were tender and fat enough to cook in their own juice, and their flavour
was exquisite. They were literally in tens of thousands in some places.
There were many other fowl in thousands also, but none were so good to
eat as the whistlers, except the tiny and beautiful “butter-ball” teal.
These were rather rare. The spur-winged goose and the Egyptian goose were
also very numerous, but tough and strong in the pot. Guinea-fowl were
very common, and the young ones were delicious, while the old ones made
capital soup. On one occasion we heard guinea-fowl making a tremendous
clatter in the bush by the river bank. We paddled over to shoot some for
the pot. W. fired at one in a tree from the canoe. At the report a large
lioness slunk away through the bush. This occurred on our way home, and
as we were by that time satiated with lion we let her go unmolested.

[Illustration: A MAN-EATER, FROM WHOSE INSIDE A WOMAN’S BANGLE WAS
TAKEN.]

Besides all the fowl there were fish in abundance. W. was a great
fisherman, and had brought a good assortment of hooks and strong sea
lines. We were seldom out of fish. As soon as we arrived at the camping
ground W. and the boys would bait their hooks with teal-guts or a piece
of buck meat, and in a very short time either the tackle was broken or a
fine fish landed. W. could never resist for long the temptation to bait a
hook with a small fish of ½ lb. or so, in the hope of catching that most
sporting and excellent fish the tiger or “capitaine.” It always ended
in his hooking a tiger, but it also ended in the complete loss of hook
and most of the line. No gear, however strong, seemed capable of holding
this fish. We often admired them as they leapt feet into the air when in
hot pursuit of some smaller fish. They presented such an air of activity
and energy on these occasions as to make the movements of running salmon
appear quite tame and slow in comparison. That they are equally good on
the table we had many opportunities of testing, as we always chose them
in preference to the others when buying from the natives, who catch them
in clever traps. We once had a “capitaine” served up with mayonnaise and
the most perfect wine; this was when we lunched with the Governor, and a
more delicious fish could not be imagined. We were told, as a tribute to
its excellent qualities, that it derived its name from the fact that it
was considered that no one below the rank of “capitaine” was worthy to
eat it.

Time accomplishes wonders even in Africa, and at last we were actually
about to enter the Bahr Aouck. We were deeply laden with foodstuffs,
ready for anything that might turn up. W. had a ·318 Mauser, a ·450 D.B.,
and a 12-bore shot-gun. I had a ·318 and a ·22. Stacks of ammunition
for these lay snugly packed in tins in the canoe hold. Then we had six
“boys,” all pretty expert with canoes by this time. We had these boys
in splendid order. They were of no particular tribe or caste—in fact,
they were all of different tribes or castes. We paid them well, but,
what was of far greater importance, we kept them in tip-top condition.
Living ourselves, as we were by this time, entirely upon native food, we
appreciated at their correct value the many and various grains, nuts,
oils, etc., and whatever we had our boys also shared. Fish and meat,
millet or maize meal, rice and ground-nuts, palm oil, sim-sim oil,
ground-nut meal and honey, all were to be found in the capacious hold of
our cargo canoe, and all at a trifling cost. Whenever we were compelled
to replenish our store of foodstuffs we killed a hippo or two, rolled it
up on a sand-bank, and immediately a market would spring up.

The consequence of this high living was a state of high efficiency and
contentment among the crew. As none of them had ever been with white men
except the cook, who had been with a German, they were all unspoiled and
all willing to do anything that turned up. The cooks were boys one day,
tusk-choppers the next, canoe carriers the next, and so on. Everybody had
to turn their hands to anything, and all were crew.

When, therefore, we sighted the junction of the Bahr Aouck with the
Shari, against whose sluggish current we had paddled so many weary miles,
we all felt keen and ready to tackle anything that might turn up. We had
been careful to keep our destination secret, so that when we actually
steered our canoes into the Bahr Aouck our boys had not the slightest
inkling of our intention to ascend this river. All being strangers to
this country they had never heard of the Bahr Aouck—or, indeed, of any
other of the many “bahrs” there. But had they known the name, through our
having mentioned that we were going there, it is almost certain that they
would have made enquiries among the natives we had already met with, and
that from them they would have received such dreadful reports as would
have led them to desert rather than penetrate the unknown. Consequently,
when we paddled vigorously into the swifter current of the Bahr Aouck
we were all a merry crew; the boys were merry because they did not know
where they were, and W. and I were merry because we did know where
we were, and also because the water which bore us at that moment was
obviously that of a considerable river, and we thought that if it did not
split up into many smaller streams we would go far, and perhaps discover
something worth while. I do not know what W. would have considered worth
while, as he never showed feeling of any sort and he did not tell me.
Although all this was quite new to him, one would have said, on seeing
him at this moment, that he must have been exploring unknown country all
his life and had grown tired of it. To me, the moment of our entry into
the Bahr Aouck was most exhilarating. I had visions of immense herds of
unsophisticated elephant with enormous ivory; perhaps new tribes, gold,
diamonds, stores of dead ivory waiting for someone to pick them up, new
animals, water-elephants, and a thousand and one other visions. As usual
with visions, none of these materialised.

[Illustration: NATIVE DECOYS: BUNDLES OF GRASS, THE ENDS WHITEWASHED,
STUCK ON STICKS. SHARI RIVER.]

[Illustration: WHISTLING TEAL AND LOCUST STORKS: BAHR AOUCK.]

[Illustration: ROLLING UP HIPPO.]

[Illustration: THE SMALL CANOE UP-STREAMING: BAHR AOUCK. THE PACKAGE IS
DRIED FISH.]

As we poled up-stream I took soundings. There were eight feet of water in
some places, in spite of it being the dry season. For the first few days
we saw very little game. A few kob and water buck, baboons and duiker.
Once we saw some fishing natives with their traps. They sold us some
excellent smoked fish, and told us that there was one village ahead of
us, but beyond that nothing. The next day we saw where a herd of elephant
had crossed the river some days before. Hippo now became more common, and
at one place where the river formed a large pool there must have been
about a hundred of them bobbing up and down. A mile or two further and
we came to the village mentioned by the fishermen. It was not actually
on the banks, but we knew we were close to it by the canoes and paths.
Here we camped, hoping to get some information of the river ahead of us.
This was not forthcoming to any extent. When asked, the natives generally
appeared uneasy, said they had never been up-stream, or muttered
something vague about bad people further on. All agreed, however, that
there were no more villages. This determined us to lay in a large cargo
of foodstuffs. In order to do this I dropped down-stream to the hippo
pool with the small Canadian, now empty. I paddled to a sand-spit which
stuck out conveniently into the pool. It was literally covered with
fowl of various kinds as we approached. From the sand-spit I proceeded
to shoot hippo in the brain, and had no difficulty in killing enough to
provide us with sufficient food for a month or two, when the meat had
been exchanged for flour, etc. Hippo sink to the bottom when shot in the
brain, remaining there for a variable time, depending on the temperature
of the water, the stage of fermentation reached by the stomach contents,
the inflation or otherwise of the lungs at the moment of death, and the
state of the river bottom. Generally this period ranges between twenty
minutes and one and a half hours. Shortly after the first carcase had
floated to the surface the natives began to arrive. Some of these I sent
off hot-foot to tell the whole village that there was meat and fat for
all who should bring food in exchange. Meanwhile the carcases were towed
to land and rolled up as soon as they floated. When the last had been so
dealt with the cutting up commenced, and when that was completed there
were already dozens of women waiting with calabashes of meal, etc., to
exchange for meat. Such a feast I dare say they had never seen before.
It is seldom that more than one hippo is killed at one time by native
methods, except on the Upper Nile, where they have a kind of grand battue
in which hundreds of canoes take part. Presently our market became very
big. No sooner did the natives see the size of the chunks of reeking beef
given in exchange for the various commodities than they rushed off to
their homes to bring something to barter. We obtained every conceivable
kind of native produce. Among the items was a canoe-load of smoked
fish. This must have weighed about 200 lb. and was bartered for half a
hippo. We also got some curious tobacco. Only the very small leaves and
the tobacco flowers were in this particular mixture. We both smoked it
regularly and became very fond of it. But it was very potent indeed, and
had a far more drug-like effect than ordinary tobacco.

[Illustration: HIPPOPOTAMUS IN THE SHALLOWS.]

[Illustration: W., IN THE SMALL CANOE, RUNS INTO A RISING HIPPO BUT DIGS
HER IN THE NECK WITH HIS PADDLE AND SHE DISAPPEARS WITH A SPLASH, NEARLY
SWAMPING THE CANOE.]

The slaughter of these hippo and the subsequent bartering had brought
us into touch with the natives very nicely indeed, and all were most
friendly. So much so was this the case that I ventured to approach one
of their canoe-men with the suggestion that he should accompany us
up-stream. Rather to my surprise he agreed to do so. Encouraged by this,
I suggested that perhaps he had a friend who might like to go with him.
He said that he thought one of his friends would go also. We were very
glad indeed to have these fellows. The first was quite a youth but a
good waterman, while the second was a hard-bitten man of middle age. I
thought he would make a good tracker for W. when we should reach elephant
country. He was not a waterman at all; in fact, he fell overboard from
the small canoe—which was W.’s—so often that I was obliged to put him in
the larger and more stable one.

When all was ready we pushed off, very deeply laden. All was now new
river ahead of us. As we progressed day by day hippo became more and more
numerous. In some places they formed almost a complete barrage across
the river. Sometimes it was ticklish work steering between them. Their
heads often came up quite close to the canoes, and then they stared at
us goggle-eyed with astonishment. Once W.’s canoe ran its stem on to
the neck of a rising hippo, the fore part being lifted clean out of the
water, canting over dangerously, and then let down with a whack as the
old hippo dived. They shipped a deal of water, but there was no damage
done. We soon found that if we kept on the shallow side of the pools we
ran less chance of bumping into them, our only danger then being from
hippo asleep on the bank suddenly waking up and rushing blindly towards
deep water. Had we ever had the ill luck to have been across their way, I
believe they would have rushed clean into or over us.

For many days we saw no sign of elephant. Kob and water buck were fairly
numerous on the banks, and whistling teal, guinea-fowl, Egyptian geese,
spoonbills and egrets were common, while inland giraffe, rhino, buffalo,
haartebeeste, topi, oribi, roan, and duiker were numerous. Lion were
frequently heard, and W. shot a fine male on the carcase of a hippo which
was pretty far gone. This hippo must have been wounded by man somewhere,
as it was full grown and quite beyond a lion’s ability to kill. Fish
became so unsophisticated as to take anything you liked to put on a hook,
and that right alongside the canoe. So tame were they that our boys used
to dangle buck gralloch in the water and spear the fish which immediately
swarmed round it. Why fish were so numerous I do not rightly understand.
It may have been because there were no natives, who, with their gigantic
traps, must destroy countless fish. A curious thing was that the enormous
“crocs.” we saw appeared to prefer buck to fish. One which we shot was
dragging a dead haartebeeste into the water. The haartebeeste was full
grown and had evidently been kept under water for some time. We often
spotted these monsters lying motionless in the grass, waiting for buck to
come along, I imagine. Another large crocodile whom we were tempted to
photograph was taken by W. at only about 8 yds. range. He had sustained
damage to one eye—the one nearest the photographer—and probably that was
why W. could approach him so closely.

So far we had not met with great numbers of tsetse. But now we began to
reach a very flat country which was evidently all under water in the wet
season. Half submerged evergreen forests became more and more common.
These cool, damp forests were full of tsetse, and in a few days we were
overjoyed to find that elephant frequented them in goodly numbers.
Buffalo also seemed fond of them. Had it not been for the swarms of
tsetse I think we would have found these groves of evergreen standing
full of elephant and buffalo. As it was they came to them only by
night, withdrawing to the open bush and dry grass lands in the daytime.
Only once did we actually see elephant from the canoes in the daytime,
although we frequently did so by night.

[Illustration: SPUR-WINGED GEESE: SHARI RIVER.]

[Illustration: MALE EGYPTIAN GEESE IN BREEDING SEASON: BAHR AOUCK.]

One day we saw ahead of us what appeared like pure white trees. When we
drew near we saw that the white on the trees was caused by a colony of
egrets sitting on their nests, the surrounding foliage being covered
with their droppings. A curious fact in connection with this colony was
that when we repassed it on our way down-stream some six weeks after,
white spoonbills had taken over the nests and were busy sitting on them,
while their earlier occupants, the egrets, were all over the sand-banks,
teaching their half-grown progeny how to catch fish, etc.

At the time of our up-stream journey the Egyptian goose was also
breeding. On every sand-bank there were scores of ganders, while the
geese were hidden away in the vegetation, sitting on their nests. These
we found, but always with great difficulty, so well were they hidden.

Fly and game became more and more plentiful as we journeyed on. When
I speak of fly I mean tsetse; there were other flies in plenty, but
they appeared of no importance beside the fiendish tsetse. We began
to see buffalo now, and one day we saw where the river bank had been
trampled down. As we approached it became clear that a very large herd
of elephants had been there. It was soon evident that the tracks were
quite recent, having been made the night before. We found a nice site
for camp on an island, where our fires would not be seen by elephant
revisiting their drinking place. We hoped that they would come in the
night, and sure enough they did so, soon after sundown—such a splashing
and rumbling, trumpeting and crashing. Lions were also busy, roaring
on both sides of the river. It was a busy spot and one of our happiest
camps. From it as base we hunted in all directions. And what a long way
the elephant used to go in the daytime from the river. They would come
to the river just after sundown when the flies were quiet. There they
would spend the night, crashing the evergreen gallery-forest, plastering
themselves with mud as a protection against fly on the following day,
eating acres of the still green river grass, and generally enjoying
themselves. It must be remembered that at this season everything a few
yards back from the river is burnt up either by sun or fire. The dry
season in these tropical parts is the winter of the Northern Hemisphere,
in its effects upon vegetation. Instead of dying off the grass is burnt
off. The grass fires wither the leaves on the trees and they fall
immediately after. All temporary water, such as pools, puddles, etc.,
dries up. Fly desert the dry parts and congregate in myriads in the shade
of the river forest. But they will follow man or beast for miles into
the dry country. It is astounding to look behind one as one leaves the
vicinity of the river. Behind each man there is a small cloud of tsetse;
they keep about two or three feet from the ground. Each traveller keeps
flicking away fly that settle on the man in front of him. It is rather
startling at first to receive a hard slap on the back when one is not
expecting it. Fly generally got us under the brims of our hats and, when
near to buffalo, one would be bitten every thirty seconds. Lucky for us
that there were no natives about with sleeping sickness. During the dry
season there is not much for elephant to eat away from the river. They
pick up a fair lot of tamarind fruit, dig up roots, and chew aloes and
sansivera fibre, spitting out the fibre in balls. But it is on the river
that they depend for the bulk of their green food and water, and, were it
not for fly, they would doubtless remain there day and night.

Early on the following morning W. and I separated, he taking one bank
while I took the other. I tracked a large herd back from the river for
about five hours’ fairly slow going, as the tracking was difficult. Dry
season tracking is difficult because the ground becomes so hard, also
because all the old tracks remain, as there is no rain to obliterate them.

About fifteen miles back from their drinking place there were signs of
the elephant having left their huge and well-worn trails, scattering
right and left into small groups, the better to find their scanty food.
We saw plenty of fresh rhino spoor, but this was one of the few days upon
which we did not encounter them in the flesh.

[Illustration: SKY BLACK WITH WILDFOWL.]

[Illustration: RHINO NEARLY HAVE OUR COOK.]

We had been disentangling the trail of a large bull and had brought it,
through the scores of other tracks, right from the river bank. We were
rewarded presently by sighting him by himself, wandering gently on. The
country was altogether in favour of the rifle, and he had no chance.
But after the shot I was astonished to see elephant emerge from the
bushy parts, strolling aimlessly about, apparently quite unscared by the
sound of a rifle. I went through crowds and crowds of them, getting
a bull here and there. It was many years since I had seen elephant so
unacquainted with firearms. They appeared to take the crack of the ·318
for the crack of a breaking tree-stem or something of that sort.

As our hunting operations were all rather similar to the above, except
in result, I will pass them over and merely remark on the extraordinary
numbers of rhino we met. They were so stupid and so numerous as to be
a perfect nuisance. On sighting one we generally tried to avoid him by
making a detour, but even then they would sometimes follow us. On several
occasions our boys got into trouble with them and they had to be shot
in order to avoid accidents. Once, on leaving camp for a few days’ tour
in the bush, we started a big cow and a bull from the river bush. They
trotted away and I thought no more about them. About an hour afterwards
I heard a frantic shout behind me. I looked round, and there was my boy
legging it straight towards me, with our two friends of the morning close
behind him. The big cow was leading and was quite close to the boy. They
were all going their hardest, and really appeared bent on mischief, so I
was compelled to shoot the cow and, shortly afterwards, the bull also,
as he went barging stupidly about. I sent afterwards for the horns of
these rhino when I thought they would be sufficiently rotten to disengage
easily. The boy who went for them found the bodies in the possession of
three lions, which refused to budge when shouted at. We had provided the
boy with a rifle. He said that he fired it at the lions, who took no
notice of it, but continued to growl at him. He then had another shot,
which hit one of them. They all withdrew a little distance, when the
boy had another shot at the wounded one and killed him. He said that
the others remained about in the vicinity while he skinned the lion and
pulled off the horns of the now putrid rhino.

Besides rhino there were many lions, some of immense size, although with
poor manes. Although I knew the Athi Plains in British East Africa in the
old days, and many other parts of Africa, I have never seen such numbers
of lions. I believe I am correct in stating that every carcase of
elephant that we shot during the entire time was found in the possession
of at least one lion when visited for the purpose of drawing the tusks.
The greatest number that I personally saw round a carcase was five, but
when I camped a few hundred yards to windward of some dead elephants we
all had a very lively time indeed. Some boys had meat hung up and drying
round huge fires too close, as it turned out, to the dead animals. I am
safe in saying that from one hour after sundown until one hour before
dawn nothing could approach the carcases because of the lions about them.
Hyenas and jackals were constantly trying to sneak up to them, only to
be chased off with the most terrific growls and rushes by the lions. So
impertinent did they become that eventually they occupied with impunity
one of the carcases which lay only 15 yds. from the nearest fire. Here
they were clearly visible to the boys in the meat camp, and when they
first came the boys had tried to drive them off by throwing burning
sticks at them. This offensive was so effectually countered by the lions
as to cause it to cease at once. The arrival of the first firebrand was
greeted with such an appalling outburst of growls, snarls, and showing
of teeth as veritably to scare the throwers almost to the point of
flight. The lions were not again molested and pursued their scavenging
in peace. I spent some days at this spot, as it held the only water for
miles around, and one could hear the lions approaching each evening. They
commenced to roar about an hour before sundown and continued until they
arrived. Where they all disappeared to in the daytime was a mystery,
though dogs would have shown them.

[Illustration: MUSGUM VILLAGE: INUNDATED AREA.]

[Illustration: MUD HUTS: MUSGUM.

_Constructed without wooden supports of any kind, and with holes in the
top for exit during floods._]

This particular camp was also remarkable for the extraordinary number
of marabou storks. I had often before seen hundreds of these huge birds
collect on a carcase, and I had seen large numbers assembled for the fish
which were left high and dry by a receding river, but here they were
literally in tens of thousands. And what digestions they have! Huge lumps
of elephant offal are snapped up and swallowed. Then when the interior
mechanism has received all that it can handle, the foul provender is
passed into the great flesh-red sack which depends from the neck. This
sack bulges and lengthens until it nearly touches the ground. But what
a weary air they have as they flap slowly and heavily away, completely
gorged, to a convenient perch, there to digest the putrid mass. As
scavengers I should say that five or six marabou would about equal a
full-blown incinerator.

As we were so short-handed we found it impossible to cut out the tusks
of the elephant we got. Consequently we were obliged to leave them
until the action of putrification loosened them in the socket, when
they could be drawn. We found that four days were required before this
could be done. On the third day the topmost tusk would generally come
away, but the under one remained fast. It was owing to this fact that
some of our little party had to visit the carcases when they were in a
highly advanced state of putrification, and they were invariably found
in the possession of one or more lions. Why the lions were such dirty
feeders was not apparent. The whole country was seething with game; kob
and haartebeeste, giraffe, buffalo, topi and smaller antelope were all
numerous. Nearly all cover, such as grass, was burnt off, and it is
possible that this made it more difficult for lions to kill.

The skins of these lions were of a peculiarly dark olive tinge for the
most part, with the scanty mane of a slightly lighter tint. Some of them
were of immense size, and all that we shot were in good condition.

One day our Kabba boy divulged the fact that he had been up the river
before. He had come at high water with some companions to gather the
leaves of the Borassus palm for making mats. He said that the highest
point they had reached lay about a day’s travel ahead of us, and then we
should reach a country of palms.

We did so. The whole country became covered with these beautiful palms.
The huge fruit hung in dozens from the crowns, while the vultures were
nesting among the leaves. As our food consisted chiefly of meat and
grain, anything in the shape of fruit was eagerly eaten. We used to
stew these palm fruits, each the size of a grape fruit. Although the
flesh was almost too stringy to swallow, the juice mixed with honey was
excellent.

As we plunged along up-stream one day, what did we see in mid-stream
ahead of us but a floating hippo spear, travelling slowly along with the
current towards us. These spears are so constructed that the buoyancy of
the shank is sufficient to float about one-third of the spear standing
straight up out of the water. This enables the hunter to recover his
spear when he misses a hippo.

From this floating evidence it was clear that there were natives in the
vicinity, and as we were about to pick up the spear we saw its owner’s
head watching us from the bank. We salvaged his spear and rested easy,
while we tried to talk across the river to him. We tried him in all the
native languages known to any member of the safari, but it was not until
we tried the Sango tongue of Ubangui watershed that he answered. But he
was shy and frightened, and we made little headway. When we offered to
bring him his spear he quietly disappeared from view. However, we hoped
we had sown good seed by telling him that we were come to hunt elephant,
and that all who helped were welcome to the meat. On we went on our way,
our progress, as usual, impeded at every pool by hippo. That night we
camped on the bank opposite to that of the natives.

Nothing happened. In the morning as we drew out a young water buck was
shot for food for the boys—we whites preferred teal. While on the subject
of teal I would like to say that we never tired of these birds. We ate
them stewed at regular meal times, and we ate them roasted on the spit
between meals, cold. We ate them not as we do here, a mere slice or two
from the breast; but we each ate one or two whole birds at a sitting.

[Illustration: A WATER BUCK.]

[Illustration: FEMALE WATER BUCK ON SANDBANK.]

As the buck was being skinned we heard a shout from the opposite bank,
and there were some natives. This was splendid. On these occasions it is
best to show no haste or eagerness, so the skinning and loading of the
buck went on methodically. Everything of the buck was taken, as we did
not want our newly-found natives to get any meat until we had come to
some understanding as to their showing us elephant.

When all were aboard we paddled slowly across to the natives, who were
obviously shy. Anchoring the canoe by clinging to the grass, we held a
kind of introduction ceremony. Among the natives we were glad to see our
friend of yesterday’s hippo-spear incident. We laid bare to them our
object in ascending this river, and asked in return with whom we had to
deal. They said that they came from the south, to reach their village
requiring four days’ travelling without loads. Knowing the kind of thing
they meant by this, I estimated the distance at about 180 or 200 miles.
They disclosed also that they had originally been under Senussi at Ndélé,
that they still paid taxes and found labour for that post, but that since
the occupation of the country by the French, following upon the killing
of the old Sultan Senussi, they now lived three or four days’ march to
the north of the post Ndélé. While Senussi reigned they had been obliged
to live in the capital; as with Buba Gida, all the inhabitants of the
country for 300 miles round had been “gathered in.” Meanwhile, they said,
elephant were now in the neighbourhood and that they could show us them.
We were ready in a very few moments to accompany them, merely taking a
mosquito net, a small packet of tea and sugar and a kettle. Presently
we joined up with some more natives, some of whom were armed with the
enormous elephant spear of the Arab elephant hunters, whose country lay
to the north. These spears have a leaf-shaped head from 7 ins. to 9 ins.
across, and are kept razor-edged. The system of hunting is this. In the
dry season, when most of the grass has been burnt off and the harmatan
is blowing, all the young bloods arrange an expedition. The harmatan
is the north-east monsoon of the Indian Ocean, and is a hard breeze at
midday of a velocity of about 30 m.p.h., dry and hot when it comes off
the desert, and constant as regards direction. At this season so dry is
the air that sound carries no distance, and one may walk up to within
a few feet of elephant without fear of discovery. These expeditions
sometimes number 300 spears. All the old crocks of horses are raked up.
The rich are represented on the expedition by slaves, mostly on foot.
All are armed with the huge spears, with their bamboo shanks 10 ft. or
12 ft. long. Off they set for the south, poorly supplied with food, as
they reckon to live “tough” on what they can kill. When they set out
they and the horses are in very good condition, but when they return
the men are haggard and thin, leg-weary and footsore, while most of the
horses are bleached and well gnawed skeletons in the bush. Few survive
the hard work, poor food, and constant attacks of the tsetse fly. When
they meet with the fairly recent trail of a herd of elephant they take
it up with tremendous vigour, push along it without a stop until dark,
camp, on again next day without a stop, perhaps camp again and eventually
sight their quarry. Then those on horses dismount, the protectors are
taken off the razor-sharp spear-heads, and all advance shoulder to
shoulder, spears held projecting 6 ft. or 7 ft. in front, the flat of the
spear-head lying in a horizontal direction. With the harmatan blowing its
hardest it is possible for the line of spear-men to come within thrusting
distance of the elephants’ sterns, and at a signal the spears are driven
in with the aim of cutting the large tendons and arteries. Hence the
width of spear-head. In the consequent commotion casualties among the
spear-men are frequent, as might be expected. Off go the unwounded
animals, the horses are brought, and the chase is again taken up. Now
the elephant will not stop for miles and miles, so they must be ridden
to a standstill, or nearly so, before another assault on them can be
attempted. Away into desperately dry and waterless country they go, but,
try as they may, those human devils are always with them. The hardships
these latter bear are almost incredible. They seldom have water or food
with them. Often they are starving, and their only hope, the death of an
elephant. Kill, or die miserably in the bush, is not a bad system and,
as might be expected, leads to perfectly awful destruction of elephant
life. Ivory is primarily the object, but, as the hunt develops, water and
meat become of more importance. Water, I must explain, is obtained from
the elephants’ intestines and, although warm, is quite good to drink. In
the average herd cows and calves predominate, consequently they suffer
most. In the case of this country the coming of the white man is the
indirect cause of the destruction of elephant, and not, as in other parts
of Africa, the direct cause of their protection. Natives are permitted
to hunt elephant in the above manner on payment of a small fee, in
order that they may acquire the wherewithal to pay their taxes—a policy
short-sighted indeed, when we remember Darwin’s calculation that in 900
years two elephants become a million.

[Illustration: DOE KOB AND CALF WELL CAMOUFLAGED.]

[Illustration: COW HIPPO AND CALF.]

With our newly-found friends as guides we were soon on the trail of our
game, and by their aid we ran into and killed late in the afternoon. Our
friends were simply overjoyed at the sight of so much meat. They became
extremely friendly, cutting grass for my bed, fetching wood and water,
ready to do anything. From being rather surly and reserved they became
very communicative. As they roasted tit-bits from the elephants on their
fires nothing but shouts of laughter and merry chatter could be heard.
And when, later, we had all eaten and everyone was smoking—for they
carried tobacco—they told me more of themselves. I found that they all
talked Sango. They said that every dry season they came to the Bahr Aouck
to hunt hippo or elephant, but that so far they had had no luck. During
the rains the whole country for miles on either side was under water. No
villages existed nearer the river than theirs. They knew the river up
to the point where it issued from Lake Mamun. This item was a complete
surprise to me, for I had never heard it even suggested that the Bahr
Aouck issued from that lake. I pressed my enquiries among the older men,
and arrived at the information that shortly after leaving the lake the
Bahr Aouck was joined by another river which came from a country I knew
to be within the Egyptian Sudan border. I asked after the natives of Lake
Mamun, who were supposed to live on the waters themselves, constructing
for that purpose huts on piles. They told me that since the slave-raids
had ceased, when Senussi was shot by the French, the natives had
abandoned their lake dwellings and now lived on the shores like normal
people. They said that the whole country ahead was teeming with game. I
had learnt more in half an hour round the camp-fire with full bellies
than weeks of intercourse in the ordinary way would have yielded. Such is
the power of meat on the African.

[Illustration: ARAB SPEAR FOR HAM-STRINGING ELEPHANT.]

This system of penetrating the country by feeding the natives has the
disadvantage that if you kill a large animal they dry the meat they
cannot eat and take it home to their villages, when it can be bartered
for all kinds of commodities. Therefore you have constantly to be making
new acquaintances. Everything else is entirely in its favour, not the
least being its economy. They will carry light loads for you for days
through the bush, hunt diligently for game, chop out and carry to the
base any ivory you may get. If you are within fifty miles or so of
villages the women bring food of all sorts, and it is seldom that a few
eggs—more or less fresh—are not forthcoming for the white man. Then
they hold dances in the camps. When there are plenty of young girls
about these dances become rather loose affairs. The usual restraints of
village life seem to be relaxed in the bush, and everyone enjoys himself
or herself to the utmost. Abundance of animal food has a curious effect
on natives. Where they inhabit stockless country they go months without
flesh, with the exception of an occasional rat or mongoose or bird. The
craving for meat becomes intense, and is, in my opinion, the cause of
cannibalism. Then when they suddenly become possessed of almost unlimited
meat they simply gorge themselves. A man will eat 15 lb. or 20 lb. in the
twenty-four hours. All night long he eats and dozes, then eats again.
This turns him a peculiar dull matt colour and yellow in the eyes. On
the third day he has completely recovered from this and is again full of
energy. In a very short time he wants his grain food again, and if he
has the choice will eat a large portion of grain to a small portion of
meat. If, as with elephant, there is a good proportion of fat, natives
become extremely fit on these rations. As an example of this I can cite
the case of a “kilangozi,” or head porter, of mine. This man, of slight
build, carried a tusk weighing 148 lb. plus his mat, blanket and rations,
another 15 lb., for sixty-three days’ consecutive marching. The shortest
day was five hours, and some were very long indeed. He had as rations
throughout this march 2 lb. of native grain each day and as much meat as
he cared for with elephant fat. His condition was magnificent throughout.

[Illustration: PORTAGING CANOES.]

[Illustration: THE KILANGOZI OR HEAD PORTER WHO CARRIED THIS TUSK (148
LBS.) FOR SIXTY-THREE CONSECUTIVE MARCHING DAYS.]

In the morning I pushed off to look for elephant. The natives promised to
cut out the tusks and to bring them to the canoes, which they faithfully
did.

After hunting in this region for some days, during which we saw many
lion and killed six, we pushed on up-stream again. We were soon held up
by more elephant and more natives. The news of our doings had already
reached the villages south of us, and we had a continuous stream of
natives coming hungry to us, carrying our bush loads all over the
country, to be rewarded eventually with meat, and then stopping to smoke
it while their places were taken by newcomers. So prolific in game was
the country that we never reached Lake Mamun, as we had intended. Our
time was up, food exhausted and canoes laden. So one fine day we decided
to return.

XIII

BUFFALO

There is no animal in Africa with such a sinister reputation as the
buffalo, whether the bush cow of West Africa or the great black Cape
buffalo be under discussion. It has been repeatedly accused of dreadful
cunning and great ferocity, and it has undoubtedly caused many deaths
and maulings among both white and native hunters. Among the cases which
have come under my own observation or of which I have heard from reliable
sources, the maulings have been far more numerous than the deaths. The
wounds caused by buffalo horns seem to heal better than lion bites; the
latter, when made by old lions with dirty teeth, can be very troublesome.

Why the buffalo should have got such an evil name has always rather
puzzled me. I have shot hundreds of both kinds during my hunting career,
and I have never been charged. And yet I have constantly read of fierce
encounters between hunters and their game. Two white men were killed
recently in Nigeria by a bush cow, and I have frequently asked for
certain natives by name on revisiting villages and have been told that
they have been killed by buffalo. Yet, even when I came suddenly on a
buffalo bull lying wounded in thick stuff, he did not charge. This animal
had been mauled by lion, and according to all the rules should have
charged as soon as he became aware of my approach. What he would have
done had I not put a bullet through his neck I do not know. Perhaps he
might have charged.

[Illustration: IN THICK STUFF.]

[Illustration: WORTHY GAME.]

[Illustration: SOME RETREATING CLEVERLY BACKWARDS AND RECEIVING THE
CHARGING ANIMALS’ RUSHES ON THEIR SHIELDS, WHILE OTHERS JABBED SPEARS
INTO THEIR VITALS FROM THE SIDES.]

I well remember the mixed awe and apprehension with which I approached
a herd of buffalo in my early hunting efforts. I had read of all the
hair-breadth escapes hunters usually had with these animals, of their
diabolical cunning, etc., and I was quite determined not to wound any. I
was also very cautious not to approach too near. There were many of them
out in fairly short grass. I could see them all clearly, and as we wanted
meat I thought I would select a nice fat cow. With me were about forty
young bloods from the tribe with which I was hunting. They were all fully
armed in their fashion—each man carried two thrusting spears and a rhino
or giraffe hide shield. The reason they carried shields was that we had
been hunting elephant in no man’s land, where prowlers from the enemy,
_i.e._, the neighbouring tribe, might have been met. Telling this mob to
get away back while I did the shooting I left them and approached the
browsing and unsuspicious herd. Selecting what I thought would be a fat
one, I fired. Without pausing or wavering the whole herd started straight
for me, closing together as they came. I fired again at one of the
leaders and then started to get out of their way. As I ran to the side I
met and ran through the forty spear-men, who were now rushing straight
to meet the herd. Stopping and turning, I was astounded to see these
fellows right in among the buffalo, some retreating cleverly backwards
and receiving the charging animals’ rushes on their shields, while others
jabbed spears into their vitals from the sides. No sooner was an animal
down than off they went after the retreating herd. And here, again,
all my preconceived notions were upset, for the natives caught up with
the buffalo again and killed several more. But for the herd’s arrival
at a belt of forest, perhaps they would all have been speared. Not a
native was touched. I must say I was rather staggered by what had taken
place; the awe-inspiring charge was apparently a simple running away;
the terrific speed, strength and agility of the story-book buffalo all
shown up by a handful of nimble lads armed with soft iron spears; the
formidable buffalo made to cut a very poor figure, and the white man with
his wonderful gun made to look extremely foolish.

This incident put me right about buffalo, I think, for I have killed
scores and scores since, and I have never had any trouble with them. I
have shot them in West Africa, where they are usually met in thick stuff
and in long grass, and also in the Liberian forests, east of the Nile and
in the Congo—and invariably with small bores. The most killing bullet I
found to be the solid.

The stampede or rush straight towards the shot was a fairly frequent
occurrence in my experience; and if one were convinced that the animals
were charging, one would have to write down the buffalo as an extremely
dangerous animal were it not for the ease with which they are killed with
end-on delivered solid bullets. Of course, flesh wounds are no good. The
vitals _must be raked_. But in thick stuff the target is so close and so
big that no one should miss it, as for all game of this nature a reliable
magazine rifle is streets ahead of a double. In a mix-up with buffalo in
bush it is sometimes necessary to fire four or even five shots in rapid
succession, and for this the double is mere handicap.

Much has been written about the difference in colour among buffalo, and
there have been attempts to separate them into different races. How all
the colours may be found in one herd may be witnessed on the Shari River
in the dry season when the grass has been burned. I have shot a grey
bull, a black bull, a red and a fawn-coloured bull from the same herd,
all fully adult. And I shot them after watching the herd through glasses
for fully half an hour, during which time I saw many of each of the above
colours. It must not be supposed that this was an isolated instance
of these colours happening in the same herd, for every time I saw any
considerable number of big buffalo in open country I have observed the
same sprinkling of colours.

The jet black is the colour of the solitary bulls one meets casually, and
I imagine from that that black is the final colour.

As with the semi-wild domesticated cattle of the ranching districts of
America, the sight or smell of blood seems to infuriate buffalo more than
anything. On one occasion when in want of meat I hit a cow buffalo in the
lungs with a ·22 high-velocity bullet. She was one of a small herd, and
as she staggered about in her death agony all the others, including the
calves and yearlings, went for her, goring her and knocking her about and
completely hiding her from me. They were dreadfully excited, bellowing
and roaring and even butting at one another.

Natives of almost all tribes have far less respect for buffalo than the
white hunters. They will attack buffalo with very primitive weapons. I
remember once going after an old bull buffalo which had spent the night
in a native garden. Two middle-aged natives tracked for me. Each carried
an abnormal number of short spears, for what purpose I did not understand
until later. They tracked well and quickly as the dew was still on the
ground, and wherever the buffalo had passed was a perfectly plain track.
We presently came to a large depression filled with high reeds well over
a man’s head. Here, the natives said, we were sure to find our game. Now,
at this time I was still in my novitiate as regards buffalo, and my head
was stuffed with the nonsense one is usually told about these animals.
Consequently, I was rather surprised that the natives should be still
willing to go out into the reed-bed. However, I thought it was up to me
to lead the way, and I did so for a few yards, when we got into such a
maze of buffalo tracks and runs and tunnels that I was obliged to let one
of the natives re-find the tracks and lead the way. This he did quite
cheerfully, handing to his companion his surplus spears. On we went into
the most appalling stuff—reeds fourteen feet or fifteen feet high, and so
strong and dense that one could not force one’s way along except in the
buffalo runs. Visibility was good for about two yards ahead. I felt very
uncomfortable indeed, but what gave me confidence was that the leading
native was quite at ease, and I kept thinking that he ought to know all
about buffalo, if anyone did. Personally I expected to see infuriated
buffalo suddenly appearing at a yard’s range at any moment.

We went very quietly, and after prowling for half an hour the leader
stopped. We stood listening, and there, as it were almost at arm’s
length, was a heavy breathing. The tracker leant gently to one side to
let me pass, and I crept cautiously forward. I must confess that I was
in a mortal funk. I felt sure that a frightful charge was imminent. The
breathing could not be more than eight yards or ten yards distant, and
yet nothing was visible. When I had covered, I suppose, five yards or so
there was a terrific snort and a rushing kind of crash. I had my rifle up
covering the noise, ready in an instant to loose off. Nothing appeared
because the buffalo was in as great a state of terror as I was, and
was off. This fact gave me great confidence, as did also the eagerness
with which my companions took up the trail. We tracked and tracked that
wretched buffalo until he must have been in a frightful state of nerves.
We came to within hearing distance of him frequently, but never saw him.
My confidence grew by leaps and bounds, and I tried rushing at him as
soon as we knew he was close. This almost succeeded as I saw the reeds
still in motion where they had closed after his passage.

On the way home I stopped with a spear point almost touching my shirt
front. The cheery fellows with me had planted their spears in the buffalo
runs pointing in the direction from which they thought the buffalo might
come—and extraordinarily difficult they were to see, presented, as they
were, point on.

My experience of buffalo is that they are worthy game in thick stuff, but
ludicrously easy things to kill in open country. Any form of expanding
bullet should not be used, although for a broadside shot any kind of
bullet is good enough. But if one carries mixed bullets one is certain
sooner or later to find oneself loaded with just the wrong type of
bullet, and, perhaps, with no time to change. I have always found the
solid very deadly for all kinds of game. An end-on shot suits this type
of bullet to perfection, as the vitals are certain to be raked if the
holding is as it should be. Blind terror-stricken rushes by buffalo
are not uncommonly straight towards the gun, but the brutes are easily
dropped with a well planted shot. I believe that buffalo can be very
nasty when in thick stuff with a flesh wound, but there is no earthly
reason with modern firearms why one should miss such a target as is
presented by a buffalo’s vitals. Always know where you are sending your
bullet, I have found to be an excellent maxim.

XIV

AFRICAN LIONS

African lions may be placed in two categories—those which kill their
game, and those which live largely on carrion, as hyenas do. Among the
former, carrion-eaters will sometimes be found, but this foul feeding
is generally due to old age or broken teeth, and it is among these
that the habit of man-eating takes place. While in robust health and
full possession of their power these lions will never touch dead meat,
preferring to kill zebra, haartebeeste, wildebeeste, or even buffalo or
giraffe; whereas the pig-eaters—as the lions of the second category are
called—prey upon much smaller stuff, such as warthog, reedbuck, duiker,
etc., failing which they will eat anything dead they may find. There are,
therefore, lions and pig-eating lions.

Lions are much finer, bolder and more courageous than the pig-eaters. At
night they will attack cattle inside strong zerebas in spite of fires,
shouts and shots. When they take to man-eating they do it thoroughly,
as, for instance, the two or three old lions which terrorised the coolie
camps at Tsavo during the construction of the Uganda Railway. These
accounted for some scores of victims in spite of colossal thorn zerebas,
fires and armed guards. Their doings are recounted in the “Man Eaters
of Tsavo,” and I will only add to that able account the doings of an
old Sikh ex-soldier and his son. It was when the Government had offered
a large reward for every lion killed within a mile on either side of
the railway. Fired with the prospect of immediate wealth, this old man
obtained a Rigby-Mauser ·275, and he and his son took to hunting lions.
There were then in East Africa troops of lions sometimes over twenty
strong. Knowing from the permanent-way gangs of coolies the likeliest
spots, the hunters began their operations. These consisted of building
shelters from which to fire by night, and they were generally situated
close to reed beds known to be used by lions. At first the shelters were
quite elaborate affairs affording considerable protection. Familiarity
taught them that no protection was necessary, and latterly the cache
was merely a ring of boulders over which one could fire from the prone
position. The old man could imitate a goat or a cow to perfection, but
whether it was desire on the part of the lions to eat goat or cow, or
merely curiosity to find out what the strange noise was, must remain a
mystery. Certain it is, though, that the Sikhs’ cache was a sure draw.
The young fellow shot straight and true, and lion after lion succumbed.
In nine months these two men claimed the reward on some ninety skins. On
about forty-five the reward was actually paid, there being some doubt as
to whether the remainder were killed within the mile limit.

As East Africa became better known, sportsmen came in greater numbers for
big game, and many lions were killed. At this period some extraordinary
bags were made. The hunting was done entirely on foot, and it was not
until later that the use of ponies and dogs for hunting lions became
common. Sometimes the natives could be induced to drive them out of their
strongholds, the great reed beds of the Stony Athy. To do this armed only
with spears requires some nerve, as most men who have entered these reed
beds will admit, even when armed with modern rifles. The reeds are not
the little short things we know in this country, but great high strong
grass well over a man’s head.

[Illustration: DRIVEN OUT OF THE REED BEDS.

_As a game animal the lion affords first-class sport, and sportsmen will
be glad that some protection has been given lions in East Africa. This,
combined with the large stock in the game reserves, should ensure good
sport for many years to come._]

[Illustration: “A MAGNIFICENT MALE DELIBERATELY TURNED AND STOOD FACING
ME.”]

[Illustration: CHASING OFF AN INTRUDER.]

[Illustration: SPOTTED!]

This hunting of lions by men who were novices at the game was attended by
many casualties. I was told that in one year out of about forty visiting
sportsmen who devoted themselves seriously to lion hunting, twenty were
mauled. Of these twenty, more than half were killed or died from the
effects of wounds. The lions of that period were extraordinarily bold
and courageous. In the early morning on those huge plains I have walked
steadily towards a troop of lions numbering a score. Just as steadily
walked away the troop—no hurry or fear of man. When I ran, a magnificent
male deliberately turned and stood facing me. As I approached he
advanced quietly towards me, while the others idled along in the opposite
direction. One could hardly imagine a finer sight than this great bold
fellow facing the rising sun on the dead open plain. But it was futile
swagger on his part, for he was not a man-eater. He had killed and eaten
to repletion like all the lions on those plains. And yet, there he was,
deliberately advancing without cause or reason. This is the only instance
in my experience of a lion, as it were, meeting one; more often they are
off to cover, although when pursued and pressed they will sometimes turn.

The reason of the high mortality among those who hunt lions casually is,
I think, the simple one of not holding straight enough. Buck-fever or
excitement, coupled with anxiety lest the animal should slip away, is
probably the cause of much of the erratic shooting done at lions. This
frequently results in flesh wounds or stomach wounds, which very often
cause the lion to make a determined charge; and there are a great many
things easier to hit than a charging lion. Great care should be taken
to plant the bullet right. The calibre does not matter, I am convinced,
provided the bullet is in the right place. Speaking personally, I have
killed sixteen lions with ·256 and ·275 solid bullets, and, as far as I
can recollect, none of them required a second shot. One showed no sign
of having been hit. This was a lioness which galloped across my front. I
was carrying a Mannlicher-Schonauer ·256 loaded with solids. I let drive
at her and she carried on as if untouched. I thought that I had missed
her clean, until I found her some way further on, stone dead. Search as I
would, nowhere could I find either entrance or exit bullet hole, and it
was not until she was skinned that I found the tiny wound channel through
the kidneys. This lioness had had a companion lioness, and in the evening
as I was pottering about I was astonished to see her walking round the
flayed carcase of her dead friend: both of them were very old. When lions
have cubs and are disturbed they will sometimes show fight. I have seen
a native severely chased in one direction while the cubs scuttled away
in the other. I do not think that the lioness really meant business, as
it would have been an easy matter for her to have caught the native.
She merely scared the wits out of the lad by bounding leisurely along,
growling and snarling in an alarming manner.

Lions in their encounters with game frequently come by nasty wounds, as
almost any old lion skin will show. They are often bested by buffalo,
and this is not surprising when one considers the weight and strength
of an adult Cape buffalo. The surprising thing is that an animal
weighing 300 lb. to 400 lb. should ever be capable of overcoming such a
powerful, active and heavy one as the buffalo. But, probably—as Selous
observed—lions attack buffaloes _en masse_ and not singly.

The oryx, with their scimitar-like horns, occasionally kill lions
outright. These beautiful antelope are extraordinarily dexterous in
getting their 3-ft. horns down from the normal position, where they
almost sweep their backs, until the points are presented almost straight
in front. This movement is so quick as to be scarcely visible. Lions have
been found pierced from side to side.

In country where game is very plentiful lions are distinctly casual in
their hunting. I have seen one rush at a zebra, stop when within about
ten paces of it, and turn indifferently away. When I first saw him he was
about thirty or forty paces from the zebra, and he covered the twenty or
so yards at terrific speed.

As a game animal the lion affords first-class sport, and sportsmen will
be glad that some protection has been given lions in East Africa. This,
combined with the large stock in the game reserves, should ensure good
sport for many years to come.

RIFLES

The question of which rifles to use for big-game hunting is for each
individual to settle for himself. If the novice starts off with, say,
three rifles: one heavy, say a double ·577; one medium, say a ·318 or a
·350; and one light, say a ·256 or a ·240 or a ·276, then he cannot fail
to develop a preference for one or other of them.

For the style of killing which appeals to me most the light calibres are
undoubtedly superior to the heavy. In this style you keep perfectly cool
and are never in a hurry. You never fire unless you can clearly see your
way to place the bullet in a vital spot. That done the calibre of the
bullet makes no difference. But to some men of different temperament this
style is not suited. They cannot or will not control the desire to shoot
almost on sight if close to the game. For these the largest bores are
none too big. If I belonged to this school I would have had built a much
more powerful weapon than the ·600 bores.

Speaking personally, my greatest successes have been obtained with the
7 mm. Rigby-Mauser or ·276, with the old round-nosed solid, weighing, I
believe, 200 grs. It seemed to show a remarkable aptitude for finding the
brain of an elephant. This holding of a true course I think is due to
the moderate velocity, 2,300 ft., and to the fact that the proportion of
diameter to length of bullet seems to be the ideal combination. For when
you come below ·276 to ·256 or 6·5 mm., I found a bending of the bullet
took place when fired into heavy bones.

Then, again, the ballistics of the ·275 cartridge, as loaded in Germany
at any rate, are such as to make for the very greatest reliability.
In spite of the pressures being high, the cartridge construction is so
excellent that trouble from blowbacks and split cases and loose caps in
the mechanism are entirely obviated. Why the caps should be so reliable
in this particular cartridge I have never understood. But the fact
remains that, although I have used almost every kind of rifle, the only
one which never let me down was a ·276 with German (D.W.M.) ammunition. I
never had one single hang-fire even. Nor a stuck case, nor a split one,
nor a blowback, nor a miss-fire. All of these I had with other rifles.

I often had the opportunity of testing this extraordinary little weapon
on other animals than elephant. Once, to relate one of the less bloody of
its killings, I met at close range, in high grass, three bull buffalo.
Having at the moment a large native following more or less on the verge
of starvation, as the country was rather gameless, I had no hesitation
about getting all three. One stood with head up about 10 yds. away and
facing me, while the others appeared as rustles in the grass behind him.
Instantly ready as I always was, carrying my own rifle, I placed a ·276
solid in his chest. He fell away in a forward lurch, disclosing another
immediately behind him and in a similar posture. He also received a ·276,
falling on his nose and knees. The third now became visible through the
commotion, affording a chance at his neck as he barged across my front.
A bullet between neck and shoulder laid him flat. All three died without
further trouble, and the whole affair lasted perhaps four or five seconds.

Another point in favour of the ·276 is the _shortness_ of the motions
required to reload. This is most important in thick stuff. If one
develops the habit by constant practice of pushing the rifle forward
with the left hand while the right hand pulls back the bolt and then
vice versa draws the rifle towards one while closing it, the rapidity of
fire becomes quite extraordinary. With a long cartridge, necessitating
long bolt movements, there is a danger that on occasions requiring great
speed the bolt may not be drawn back quite sufficiently far to reject
the fired case, and it may become re-entered into the chamber. This
once happened to me with a ·350 Mauser at very close quarters with a
rhino. I did not want any rhino, but the villagers had complained about
this particular one upsetting their women while gathering firewood. We
tracked him back into high grass. I had foolishly allowed a number of
the villagers to come with me. When it was obvious that we were close to
our game these villagers began their African whispering, about as loud,
in the still bush, as a full-throated bass voice in a gramophone song.
Almost immediately the vicious old beast could be heard tearing through
the grass straight towards us. I meant to fire my first shot into the
movement as soon as it became visible, and to kill with my second as he
swerved. At a very few paces’ distance the grass showed where he was and
I fired into it, reloading almost instantaneously. At the shot he swerved
across, almost within kicking range, showing a wonderful chance at his
neck. I fired, but there was only a click. I opened the bolt and there
was my empty case.

I once lost a magnificent bull elephant through a ·256 Mannlicher going
wrong. I got up to him and pulled trigger on him, but click! a miss-fire.
He paid no attention and I softly opened the bolt. Out came the case,
spilling the flake powder into the mechanism and leaving the bullet
securely fast in the barrel lead. I tried to ram another cartridge in,
but could not do so. Here was a fix. How to get that bullet out. Calibre
·256 is very small when you come to try poking sticks down it. Finally
I got the bullet out, but then the barrel was full of short lengths
of sticks which could not be cleared out, as no stick could be found
sufficiently long, yet small enough. So I decided to chance it and fire
the whole lot into the old elephant, who, meanwhile, was feeding steadily
along. I did so from sufficiently close range, but what happened I cannot
say. Certainly that elephant got nothing of the charge except perhaps a
few bits of stick. That something had touched him up was evident from his
anxiety to get far away, for he never stopped during the hours I followed
him.

At one time I used a double ·450-·400. It was a beautiful weapon,
but heavy. Its drawbacks I found were: it was slow for the third and
succeeding shots; it was noisy; the cartridges weighed too much; the
strikers broke if a shade too hard or flattened and cut the cap if a
shade too soft; the caps of the cartridges were quite unreliable; and
finally, if any sand, grit or vegetation happened to fall on to the
breech faces as you tore along you were done; you could not close it.
Grit especially was liable to do this when following an elephant which
had had a mud bath, leaving the vegetation covered with it as he passed
along. This would soon dry and tumble off at the least touch.

I have never heard any explanation of the undoubted fact that our British
ammunition manufacturers cannot even yet produce a reliable rifle
cartridge head, anvil and cap, other than that of the service ·303. On
my last shoot in Africa two years ago, when W. and I went up the Bahr
Aouck, the very first time he fired at an elephant he had a miss-fire
and I had identically the same thing. We were using ·318’s with English
made cartridges. Then on the same shoot I nearly had my head blown off
and my thumb severely bruised by an English loaded ·256. There was no
miss-fire there. The cartridge appeared to me almost to detonate. More
vapour came from the breech end than from the other. I have since been
told by a great authority that it was probably due to a burst case, due
to weak head. On my return I complained about this and was supplied with
a new batch, said to be all right. But whenever I fire four or five
rounds I have a jamb, and on investigating invariably find a cap blown
out and lodging in the slots cut for the lugs of the bolt head. Luckily
these cartridges are wanting in force; at one time they used fairly to
blast me with gas from the wrong end. The fact that these faults are not
conspicuously apparent in this country may be traced to the small number
of rounds fired from sporting rifles, or, more probably, to the pressures
increasing in a tropical temperature.

I have never been able to appreciate “shock” as applied to killing big
game. It seems to me that you cannot hope to kill an elephant weighing
six tons by “shock” unless you hit him with a field gun. And yet nearly
all writers advocate the use of large bores as they “shock” the animal so
much more than the small bores. They undoubtedly “shock” the firer more,
but I fail to see the difference they are going to make to the recipient
of the bullet. If you expect to produce upon him by the use of big bores
the effect a handful of shot had upon the Jumping Frog of Calaveras
County, you will be disappointed. Wounded non-vitally he will go just as
far and be just as savage with 500 grains of lead as with 200. And 100
grains in the right place are as good as ten million.

The thing that did most for my rifle shooting was, I believe, the fact
that I always carried my own rifle. It weighed about 7 lb., and I
constantly aligned it at anything and everything. I was always playing
with it. Constant handling, constant aiming, constant Swedish drill with
it, and then when it was required there it was ready and pointing true.

XVI

AFRICAN ADMINISTRATIONS

My object in writing this is to contrast the different administrations
I have come in touch with during my hunting. I have made no deep study
of the matter and simply record the impressions I received. The French
system of administering native races in Africa appears to differ
fundamentally from the British. They look upon country they occupy as
conquered territory, and anyone may buy it or lease it who wishes;
whereas, in West Africa at any rate, the British consider the country as
belonging to the natives, and it is extremely difficult for a white man
to acquire land.

When the French take over a new country they occupy it most efficiently.
We frequently are contented to paint it red on the map, close it up to
trade and leave it simmering, as it were, in its own juice of savagery.
This appears to lead to considerable trouble ultimately, for firearms
are liable to find their way in, or the country gets raided white. When
the French have to deal with a new country a special force of military
character—Colonial Army it is called—takes it over by marching into it
and establishing posts. If this force encounters obstruction, so much
the sooner will the country be subjugated. Terrorise or kill the present
generation and educate the next generation, and in course of time you
have a race of black Frenchmen. In the fullness of time perfect equality
is given her black citizens, as anyone may see at Dakar in West Africa.

Here we have a modern town which might be anywhere in France. Remarkable
docks and landing arrangements strike one first. Then the houses and
_cafés_. French whites and French blacks apparently on perfect equality.
I was told that Dakar elected a black Deputy to send to France. Every
black speaks French—real French, not like our pidgin English. And their
blacks are so polite; perfect manners. Contrast this with the following;
it happened to me at Sierra Leone, one of our most “advanced” black
possessions:

I was travelling by tramp steamer—the only passenger. As we dropped
anchor I was leaning on the rail looking at the town and shipping, when,
directly below me, I saw a black stoker crawl slowly out of the coaling
port and coolly dive into the sea, when he struck out for the land. I
thought he was a stowaway and wished him luck and thought nothing more
about it. Some time after, the captain asked me if I had seen a boy jump
overboard, and I admitted I had. He then told me that that boy had been
to the magistrate, had sworn that he had been thrown overboard and much
more to the effect that he had been half murdered, etc. The magistrate
had summoned the captain and the chief engineer, and they asked me to go
as a witness. We went ashore at the appointed time, and never have I seen
natives so badly out of hand. At the landing place we were met by a mob
of sympathisers of the boy’s, or, in reality, a mob of natives actively
hostile to whites and not afraid to show it. In the Court House itself
there was more or less peace. At any rate, the howling was confined to
the outside of the building. I gave evidence to the effect that I had
seen the boy drop quietly into the water apparently of his own volition.
The result was given against the ship, whether justly or not I do not
pretend to judge. But when we three proceeded to leave the Court our
appearance was greeted in such a way by the mob outside as to send the
captain back in alarm. Under police escort we went, with perhaps two
hundred howling blacks baiting us the whole way. Now this scene would be
unthinkable under any other flag. It may be the result of even-handed
justice, but, I ask, what good does it do? Those blacks hated us and had
no respect for us or any other white man.

Lest from the above remarks on French administrative methods it be
thought that I am in favour of them, I would like to say that, on the
contrary, I think that all wild tribes suffer by contact with any
Western culture. All their old customs, many of which were good and all
binding, go, and in their place we substitute English or Indian law,
which is entirely unsuited to the African. But if we must go there, I
honestly think that the French method entails least suffering in the long
run.

It was my lot to travel in the German Cameroons while still under German
rule. There every black was required to remove his hat when _any_ white
passed. This simple little law was undoubtedly good, at any rate for the
first few generations of contact; and the natives appeared to me to be
happier and much more contented in the Cameroons than anywhere else I
have been. We say that we do not tolerate the brutality which French and
German methods entail. And we do not do so directly. But under our system
of employing and paying native chiefs and kings to gather taxes and to
settle disputes we blind ourselves if we do not recognise that far worse
injustices and cruelties go on than could ever happen under direct white
administration, however corrupt.

In the Sudan I came in contact with, to me, quite a new idea of governing
native races. It happened thus: I and a companion had arrived from
Abyssinia by native dug-out. We came down the Gelo into the Pibor and
then down the Sobat until that river joined the Nile. Just before its
junction there was an American Mission Station. As we were floating
leisurely down towards this, the boy steering one of our canoes was
seized by a crocodile and pulled off the stern. The other occupant had a
gun and let fly in the air. The crocodile abandoned his victim, who swam
back and clambered on to the canoe. When we arrived we saw at once that
the boy was very badly mauled, and we paddled him down to the Mission
Station. There the doctor did what he could for him; but the poor fellow
died soon afterwards. The Mission people told us that if we wished to
dispose of our canoes they would gladly buy them, as wooden canoes were
almost priceless on the Nile. In return for their kindness we promised to
give them our canoes after we had unloaded them at Tewfikia Post.

We proceeded to Tewfikia and found it a large and well-laid-out military
post. One of the crack Sudanese regiments, picked officers, grand mess,
band; altogether a show place. Sentries on the bank, too. Well, we were
most hospitably received, and I hasten to add here that no one there was
to blame for the ridiculous thing that now happened. It was the fault
of the man or men who had evolved this unique and wonderful system of
governing native tribes.

We drew our flotilla of canoes up to the bank at a spot indicated, where
there was a sentry who would keep an eye on our gear, which was mostly
ivory. We off-loaded this, so that the canoes should be ready for our
friends of the Mission. As the band was playing in the evening the
natives came and stole all our canoes under the very noses of not only
the sentry, but numerous other people. They were certainly lying not more
than thirty yards from the mess.

The theft created a tremendous flutter, but no one seemed to know what
to do. All was utter chaos. Eventually someone was found who knew of a
chief, and he was sent for. He refused to come in. And then I heard that
the policy of the Government (_sic_) was to leave the natives alone. I
was told that this was carried out to the extent of allowing pitched
battles between tribes to be fought on the large plain opposite the post,
and the wounded of both sides were left to be tended in Tewfikia hospital.

We never heard that the canoes were recovered. This is the kind of thing
that makes for trouble in the future, in my humble opinion. Far better
clear out and let someone else have a try.

INDEX

Abyssinian slave raids, 79

Anatomy of elephant, 35

Antelope-hunting, 68

Belgian domestic arrangements, 88

Blood-brotherhood, ceremony of, 56

Body shot, 8

Boyd-Alexander, visit to Sudan chief, 140

Brain shot, advantages of, 6
disadvantages of, 7

Buba Gida, interview with, 133
autocratic government by, 136

Buffalo, sinister reputation, 170
difference in colour, 171

Bukora, trouble at, 44

Canoes, Canadian “freight type,” 150

Elephant cemeteries, 73

Fighting, forms of, among natives, 62

Foot-travelling, remarkable feat of, 59

Government of native races, new idea of, in Sudan, 186

Habashi methods of punishment, 67

Harmatan, 165

Hearing distances, getting within, 2

Honey-guides, dealing with plague of, 18
mead, drinking, 17

Humidity of atmosphere, effect on sound-carrying, 50

Imitative ways of natives, 54

Ivory trading at Karamojo, 32
raiders, 21

Karamojans, dealing with, 36
incitement to murder amongst, 37

Killing elephants, chances of success in, 4
most humane method of, 6

Lado, evacuation of, by Belgians, 98

Lakkas, absence of authority amongst, 141

Lion-hunting by novices, 176

Lions, African, courage of, 175
encounters with game, 178
high mortality amongst hunters of, 177

Marathon racing, 68

Medicine men, assistance to hunters, 13
power of, 12

Mumias, town of, 21

Murua Akipi country, 66

Native ignorance of firearms, 41

Ras Tasama, rule of, 79

Rifles, most suitable types of, 6
selection of, for big-game hunting, 179

Scorpion sting, effect of, 48

Smuggling in Liberia, 109

Snaring, art of, 33

Storks, marabou, 162

Swamp region, hunting in, 86

Trap, setting of, 2

Turkwell River, 24

Tusks, method of removal, 32

Wa Boni tribe, 16

Wife, African idea of, 136

Witchcraft, African, 12

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