Here every kind of stalking has to be practised. At one time the stalker must crawl painfully along, flat on his stomach, for long distances to get a shot at one of the wilder or scarcer antelopes; at another he must walk cautiously along in dense forest, with a thick covering of dead leaves on the ground, trying his utmost to tread lightly and noiselessly, and to avoid stepping on some fallen branch hidden away in the leaves, the snap of which would scare whatever he might be after, be it elephant or small duyker buck. In open bush—i.e. bush which is sufficiently open to enable the stalker to see the game when about a hundred yards off—stalking is generally easy work, as there are often plenty of ant-heaps, besides bushes, to be taken advantage of. In dense bush, stalking is often unsatisfactory and mere chance-work, as it is very difficult to avoid making a noise in getting through it, and disturbing the game before seeing it. Perhaps the prettiest, and often the easiest, stalking is done in park-like country, where there are both big trees, ant-heaps, and bushes dotted about, as well as grass some 18 inches high, to afford shelter to the stalker. In this district game is most abundant from September, when the young grass is just beginning to shoot after being burnt, to May, when it is long, coarse, and dry.

The Kapite plains to the west and the Athi plains to the north-west of the Ukambani hills, with Machako’s as headquarters, form another grand country with regard to the quantity of game in it, though it does not afford quite such a variety as the Kilimanjaro district; and as the game is almost entirely confined to the vast, undulating, open, grassy plains, stalking is often both difficult and laborious. Lions are very plentiful here, and are seen perhaps more often than elsewhere, owing to the open nature of the country. The cheetah is by no means uncommon. Rhinoceroses have here rather a bad reputation for charging, which may possibly be accounted for by the fact that they are so much harassed by the Wakamba, who, when out hunting, and unable to get within bow-shot of game by fair stalking, have to resort to driving, and wound far more rhinoceroses than they kill. In the river Athi hippopotami are very plentiful, and, I think, have finer teeth than those in the Nzoia river and Victoria Nyanza. September to April is the best time of the year for a trip to this country.

Further north, the district round Lake Baringo, with Njemps as a depôt, is very good. Here the natives are as trustworthy and civil as the Wa Taveta, and all surplus baggage, &c., can be left at headquarters in charge of a few men whilst the sportsman is away shooting in the surrounding country. A few marches to the north and north-east elephants are numerous. The waterbuck (Kobus defassus) takes the place of the common waterbuck (Kobus elipsiprymnus), and the lately described hartebeest (Bubalis Jacksoni) takes the place of Bubalis Cokei. The impala carry particularly fine horns here. As I have never made a prolonged stay in this district, I am unable to say which months of the year would be the best to visit it in; but from what I could judge, when up there in July, I should say November to May.

The Tana river is another excellent district, both on account of the variety of game and the quantity of certain species which elsewhere a sportsman might seek day after day and never come across, though he went out specially for them. These are Waller’s gazelle, lesser kudu, oribi, ‘tope’ (Damalis Senegalensis) and Hunter’s antelope (Damalis Hunteri), which has hitherto not been found excepting on the north bank of the river, some 150 miles from the mouth. There is also a small antelope found here which has been described as a distinct species under the name of Gazella Petersi, but it may possibly be nothing more than a local variety of Gazella Grantii. This trip is perhaps more easily undertaken from Lamu, as everything can be shipped by dhow as far as Kau, on the river Ozi, where canoes can be engaged with the help of the Arkida, the principal man in the town, and the whole caravan, baggage and all, transported through the Belazoni Canal into the Tana river and upwards. If the start is made direct from Mombasa, it would be necessary to either march the whole way to Golbanti, a mission station on the river, or, to save a good deal of time and trouble, a dhow could be chartered as far as Melindi, and the rest of the journey done overland. At Golbanti canoes can be hired and Wa Pokomo boatmen engaged to transport all goods and food up the river, whilst the porters can march along the bank empty-handed if sufficient canoes are not forthcoming for all. A trip up this river should be undertaken between September and April, as it is in flood, and a great part of the country under water, during the remaining months of the year.

There are also many other districts nearer the coast, which are well worth visiting, in which game is to be found, though in more limited quantities. These are—the district round Adda, on the main road from Vanga on the coast to Mount Kisagau in the Teita country; Mount Pika-pika; Ndara, and Kisagau in the Teita country; Merereni, north of Melindi on the coast, all of which are accessible from Mombasa. The mainland to the north of Lamu, and about opposite the small island of Tula, is another good place. The best time for any of these places would be from April to August. All these and the Tana district would, for the most part, come under the head of bush country, where stalking is comparatively easy.

So much has been written about the different routes into the interior that it is not necessary to enter upon them here. In the accounts that have been written, each writer’s experience has differed so materially that it would be unadvisable to rely on the opinion, based on experience, of one writer more than another, particularly if taken from the records of expeditions of a few years back. One writer may have experienced no difficulties, as both food and water may have been plentiful when he passed. Another writer may have had plenty of food and no water, and another plenty of water but no food, &c. The rainfall in East Africa is uncertain, and the supply of food and water also uncertain in consequence. Therefore all the very latest information as to the food and water supply along the line of march should be obtained at Mombasa, before leaving. The information of a man who has traversed the route about to be taken only two months previously cannot be relied upon, although his veracity is not to be doubted. Only one month’s dry weather will make an enormous difference in a water supply; but besides this there are other things to reckon against. Amongst these are the number of caravans which have subsequently passed up and down, and the number of natives from Teita and Ukambani, who are constantly going to and fro, often with herds of cattle, sheep, and goats, all of which very soon diminish even the largest supply.

But when once the game country is reached, all anxiety about food and water is virtually over. It is the getting to the game countries, when long tracts of foodless and often waterless wilderness have to be traversed before the sportsman’s Eldorado is reached, that is such trying and often anxious work. The Teita route is the principal one into the interior, and is also the principal one from the sportsman’s point of view, as it leads to all the best game countries. This route passes viâ Taru and Mount Maungu. The wilderness between Taru and Ndara is commonly known as the ‘Maungu march,’ and it is to this day more dreaded by both Europeans and natives alike than any other, and this more particularly when going up country, when the porters, not having recovered from their ‘high old times’ on the coast, are out of training and soft, and easily become disheartened. Coming down country with their faces to the coast, and the ‘high times’ before them, it is quite a different thing, and there is little or no anxiety, as the men will face almost anything. Unless there has been an exceptional drought or an unusual number of caravans upon the road, water is generally procurable at Taru and also at Mount Maungu, where, however, the men have to climb the hill 1,000 feet above the camping-ground to get it. Between these two points, a distance of some thirty-four miles (by the winding serpentine footpath, and not fifty-three, as some writers maintain), there is no water, excepting perhaps for a few days after heavy rain. This wearisome march can then be broken at a place called Ziwa Butzuma, and again at Ziwa-wa-tatu. The best way to get over this wilderness (and it is always best to rely on its being quite waterless) is to take a supply of kerosene oil tins from the coast, and engage extra men as far as Ndara in Teita to carry them from Taru, where they can be filled, to Maungu, where they can again be replenished if necessary.

If Taveta should be the sportsman’s destination, I should strongly recommend him to take these tins with him as far as M’kameni, the last camp in Teita, before starting into the Siringeti plains. At this camp he can find out from the natives if there is any water between there and Lanjora, another long stretch of some thirty-five to forty miles. If there is no water, natives can be engaged to carry the water-tins for one march, which should be a good long one. As these Bura natives are a bad lot and great thieves, and as they are sure to demand payment in advance and will not stir till they get it, the askaris should be told to keep a sharp look-out to prevent any of them bolting. This Siringeti march, and the Maungu march, when coming down country, can be done best at night when it is cool; but it is not advisable to do any marching at night when going up country, as it is too near the coast, and night marching offers temptations to a porter to desert, which some of them could not resist. There are other ways of getting over these and other long marches without the aid of water-tins, but none of them are so comfortable. One way is to have the men called very early in the morning and told to cook their food for the day. They can then eat as much as they like and carry the rest with them; can quench their thirst and fill up their water calabashes before starting, and then march steadily on throughout the day, with a short rest every two hours to enable the stragglers to come up; they can sleep anywhere in the wilderness, and early next day arrive at the water before the sun becomes very powerful. Then, again, there is what is called a ‘terageza,’ which is a double march—one inconveniently short, say four miles, and the other inconveniently long, say sixteen to eighteen miles. This can be negotiated very much in the same manner as the above, but with this difference: Instead of beginning the day with a feed, which an African, as a rule, does not care to do, the men wait until they arrive at the water, at the end of the first short march, before cooking their food, and then go on and sleep in the wilderness without water, except what each man carries for himself.

The length of a march depends very much, if not entirely, on the distance between the places where water is procurable. As a rule, the water—excepting, of course, the running streams—is not good, and should be carefully filtered and boiled before being used, and it should be the special duty of one of the tent-boys to see that this is done. Before being filtered the water should be cleared of all extraneous matter by the use of alum. This can best be done by getting a bucket of water and stirring it round a few times with a lump of alum in the hand, which will soon precipitate all vegetable and mineral matter.

When on the march, it is a good plan to make a ‘boma’[10] every night, even if only to keep the men together; but it is not really necessary to do so until nearing the outskirts of the Masai country or wherever the natives are of a thievish disposition. In the game country a boma is always necessary, not only for protection and to keep the men together, but to keep out hyænas, &c., which might carry off or destroy a valuable trophy, if they did nothing worse.

The tent should be pitched in the shade, more particularly in a position to get the shade from the afternoon sun, when the sportsman is most likely to be in camp; but thick clumps of dense foliaged trees, under which the ground is thickly covered with dead and sodden leaves, should be avoided altogether. Such places are generally unhealthy, as the damp is pretty certain evidence that the wind does not get at them. It would be a mistake to have the leaves cleared away—in fact, care should be taken to avoid disturbing the ground as much as possible, and all grass, &c., should be cut instead of being pulled up by the roots. The chances of fever are increased by the proximity of freshly turned up earth. Rather than sleep in a place with such surroundings it is far better to camp in the open altogether, and to have a shed built, which the men can run up in a few hours, to sit under during the heat of the day.

Along the well-beaten caravan routes there is little chance of getting any sport when on the march, excepting with a shot-gun. By walking a short way in front of the leading men, a few shots at francolin, guinea-fowl, &c., can generally be had, and perhaps an occasional shot at a hartebeest or impala, but the chances are that, even if these beasts are seen, they will be so wild and on the alert, having seen or heard the caravan, that the sportsman will not feel inclined to leave the footpath to follow them. He need not therefore expect to see game in any quantities until he reaches the vicinity of his headquarters, excepting on the road to Kilimanjaro, after leaving M’kameni, the last camp before striking across the Siringeti plains, between Teita and Taveta, a stretch of some thirty-five to forty miles. These plains are often teeming with game, more particularly when the grass is beginning to shoot after being burnt. In September 1886 this place was literally crawling with hartebeest and zebra, besides impala, G. Grantii, Oryx collotis, and a few eland and giraffe, with an occasional steinbuck and wart-hog. But whatever quantity of game there may be, it is never advisable to go far from the footpath in pursuit of it when on the march. In places like this where there is little water, or more often none at all, it is as much as the porters can do to get through their long march, and when once they are on the move it is best to keep them going. The pleasure of bagging a couple of head of game or so, which will be found further on near headquarters, is hardly worth the risks of a long delay, which is sure to take place if a big beast is killed. Headquarters once reached, all the troubles and petty annoyances which are found so very trying on the march are at an end, and the sportsman, after he has overhauled all his gear, stores, &c., can leave them in perfect safety, as far as the natives are concerned, in charge of two or three of his men, and can sally forth into the surrounding district, changing his camp from time to time, with the pretty certain prospect of obtaining good trophies of all the game beasts seen on the road up.

CHAPTER VIII
THE CARAVAN, HEADMAN, GUN-BEARERS, ETC.

The sportsman having decided on the districts which he intends to visit, and on the time to be spent approximately in each, and having obtained all the latest information as to the quantity and quality of goods required for barter purposes, presents, &c., the caravan (‘safari’) must be got together and organised. The first thing to be done is to engage a really good headman (‘neapara’). Should the sportsman be fortunate enough to have such a one recommended to him who both knows the country and his work—the latter being far more important than the former—it would be advisable to engage him even though the pay he demands be high. So much depends on the headman that a really good one is worth a dozen who call themselves neapara, but who in reality are little better than porters. A good neapara not only knows his position in the caravan, but will take care to maintain his authority and command respect from those under him. One who hob-nobs and plays cards with the porters—and this is by no means an uncommon practice—soon loses all control over them, and will become wearisome with his complaints of their insubordination and indolence. The duties of a headman are not only to look after his master’s property, but to see that everybody else does his duty, and he is responsible for the general working of the caravan. The headman superintends the buying of food and the issuing of ‘posho’ (daily allowance of food) to the men. In this matter, if he is dishonest, he has every opportunity of pilfering; but at the same time it is better to trust him, as should he find that his master is suspicious, and goes too much into details, it is quite certain that he will ‘do’ him in other ways. All orders should be given to him direct. Whatever his pay may be—and there is no fixed rule—he is only entitled by custom to double a porter’s posho, whether it be rice, flour, beans, potatoes, or bananas, or cloth or beads to buy it with. Once a week, or every ten days, it is as well to give him a few strings of beads or a piece of cloth to buy ‘kitiweo,’ which may be anything he can get, such as a fowl, honey, &c., to make his meal of flour or beans more palatable, when there is no meat in camp. It is a recognised thing that each headman is allowed one porter to carry his tent (which he supplies and makes himself), bedding, &c., and if he thinks himself a great swell he may ask for two porters—if he does, and he is really a good man, it is as well to let him have them. Besides carrying his belongings, these porters will cook his food, collect firewood, and fetch water for him. One neapara is enough for every fifty ‘pagazi’ (porters) and ‘askari’ (soldiers).

A caravan askari is in reality a spare man, and there should be one askari to every ten porters. When the porters have been divided into companies or messes of ten men, each of these messes is put in charge of an askari. This man receives into his care one ‘sufria’ (cooking pot), one ‘senia’ (plate to eat off), and two axes to cut firewood, &c. He also receives from the headman the whole of the posho for his company, and is also responsible for the loads his men carry, and for their general good behaviour. Apart from seeing that the men of their own companies do their work, the duties of the askaris are various. They keep watch at night, turn and turn about, superintend the men building the ‘boma’ (zereba); stack the loads in camp, and give their own men their proper loads in the morning; carry the load of a porter (not necessarily one of their own company) into camp, should he be taken ill or become lame on the march, and run messages, &c. Although it is not the custom, it is not a bad plan to allow one porter to every four or five askaris, to carry their food, sleeping mats, &c. This would save a good deal of grumbling and discontent amongst the porters, as it would prevent the askaris from taking advantage of them by piling their private kits and food on to the load of a porter already heavily laden. By right, askaris should carry their own kits, but in a shooting trip, when perhaps the sportsman wishes to get as far and do as much as he can in a given time, it is well to avoid all causes of friction amongst the men as much as possible by a little judicious leniency of this kind. The pay of an askari is 12 rupees per month, and his posho is half as much again as a porter’s—that is, one and a half ‘kibaba’ or its equivalent. On the coast their posho is 12 pice.

The porters (‘pagazi’), of whom there are several grades, good, bad and indifferent, although they often exasperate their master even to the verge of desperation, are, as a rule, first-rate fellows. A porter will do, considering his pay and food, what few other men, if any, will or can do. He is naturally cheerful and easily pleased, but no one can be more sulky and obstinate. Provided, however, that his stomach is kept full, it is possible to do almost anything with him. On the march—and a march varies considerably, from six to eighteen miles, and sometimes more—the porter will carry, besides his regulation load of 65 lbs., his sleeping-mat, with ten days’ posho on the top of it, a Snider carbine, and belt with ten rounds of ammunition, and also his water calabash (‘mbuyu’). At the end of the march it is his duty to cut down thorn-trees and bushes, and drag them into camp to make the boma, when his work for the day is over, excepting that he has to collect firewood and water for himself and his mess. Should the sportsman go out to shoot, he is ever ready to follow his master for the sake of the meat. I have known many porters, even at the end of a long, tiring, waterless march, who, after quenching their thirst, have filled their calabashes and gone back several miles, of their own accord, to help the stragglers into camp. A porter’s wage is 10 rupees per month and his posho, one ‘kibaba’ (a measure holding about one and a half pound) of whatever can be bought from the natives—flour, beans, &c. On the coast his posho is 8 pice per diem. In a trip of six months’ duration or more, all the men in the caravan, from headman to porter, will demand, and are entitled to, three months’ pay in advance. Three months’ wages in advance is the most ever paid, however long the trip may be. For trips of less than six months, a proportionate advance is made. The principle is a bad one from a European point of view, but it is the custom, and in this respect, as in many others in East Africa, custom is law.

We now come to the ‘safari’ (caravan) as a whole. After the headman has been engaged and an approximate list of loads made out, including everything—barter goods of beads, cloth, and wire, private kit, tents, stores, ammunition—both private and for defensive purposes, cooking gear, &c., the headman should be told how many porters and askaris will be required, and it is well to let him engage as many of them as he can himself in order that he may know something of their antecedents. As they are brought up by the headman to be engaged, they should be entered in the list in companies of ten men, each company under an askari. They then receive their advance pay, and can be either told off to do any work there may be for them to do, or they can have their posho given them at once and may be left to their own devices. As long as they are in Mombasa, or any coast town, they should be mustered every morning for any work there may be, and again in the evening to receive their posho. It is always advisable to engage two or three extra porters over and above the estimated number of loads, as even in the best organised caravans, and when all the porters are present at the last moment, something is sure to turn up that has been overlooked, such as a bundle of rope, a basket of potatoes and onions, or a crate of fowls. The two latter comestibles, although they have never been given a thought since the cook received the order to get them, are of much importance, and help considerably to save the tinned provisions and to reconcile a man to the miseries of the first few days in the wilderness, after the fleshpots of Mombasa. The first day of getting under way will perhaps be found the most trying of any to the patience and temper, unless some little trouble is taken to minimise the confusion generally attending the start of a caravan for ‘up-country.’ To effect this, the whole of the men should have at least two days’ notice beforehand of their master’s decision to start on a certain day, and the night before the start the whole caravan should be told, when they come for their posho, to muster and fall in in the morning at least a couple of hours before they are actually wanted. The whole of the loads should then be laid out in lots of ten. The porters having fallen in to their respective companies with their askari, and having answered to the roll-call, the rifles and cartridge-belts should be distributed amongst them. Their posho in rice should then be issued to them, and may vary in quantity according to the destination of the safari; but should it be anywhere along the Teita route, ten days’ posho is usually given, which will last them well over the Maungu wilderness, till Teita is reached, where food of various kinds is procurable. Ten days’ food is as much as a porter can be expected to carry on leaving the coast, when he is soft and out of training, though up country, in places like the Masai district, where no vegetable food is procurable, he will not only carry twelve to fifteen days’ food, but also an extra heavy load into the bargain. Each company should then be told off to a lot of ten loads, and every man should be ordered to put some private mark of his own on his allotted load so as to recognise it again. This is important, as it not only prevents confusion, but a good deal of quarrelling amongst the men when moving camp each morning, sometimes in the dark, should there be a long waterless march ahead.

In the matter of food for the men when up country, this should, when feasible, be bought by the headman and collected in bulk, as it is much cheaper to buy it so; but when on the march and in a hurry to get on, cloth or beads should be issued to the men, who will buy whatever they like or can get. Cloth is given out in pieces of four hands, each of which is called a ‘shuka’, this being a measure from the elbow-joint to the tip of the middle finger. A porter’s allowance is one shuka; an askari’s, one and a half, or six hands; and a neapara’s, two, or eight hands, which is called a ‘doti.’ As, however, the price of food varies in different places, and also according to the crops, information should be obtained on the coast as to the number of days one shuka will last in a certain district, as it will be a check to a certain extent on the headman, and will prevent him from taking advantage of his master. In order to curry favour with the porters—and some headmen do—he might say that one shuka will only buy four days’ food, whereas it might buy six. Formerly, at Taveta, a shuka was equal to six days’ food, but it will in all probability be more expensive now. Beads are given out in strings, and it is very necessary to ascertain before leaving the coast how many strings of each different kind of beads are equal to a shuka.

With regard to the arming of the men in a caravan for defensive purposes, and the number of rifles it would be necessary to take, it will entirely depend on the country in which the shooting trip is going to be made and the disposition of the natives of the country itself, as also of the natives of the countries or districts the caravan would have to pass through to get there. For a trip up to Taveta and the adjacent country, as far north as Kimangelia, a short way beyond Useri, twenty-five rifles would be quite enough; but for a more extended trip to the Njiri plains and beyond, it would perhaps be better to take fifty, or at the most eighty, armed men.

I have always considered the El Moran or Masai warrior a very much over-rated individual, neither do I think he ever could have been so awe-inspiring and terrifying as some writers have represented him. Still, as the porters have a very exaggerated idea of his fighting and bloodthirsty propensities, it is best to inspire them with confidence by arming them well, thus assuring them that in the event of an attack they are at least in a position to defend themselves.

For a trip to the Suk country, beyond Lake Baringo, it would be better to have at least 80 to 100 armed men, as the natives are not only very treacherous, but much more fearless of firearms than other tribes. For the Tana river twenty-five rifles would be ample, provided the caravan did not go more than one day’s march from the river on the north bank. If the trip should be extended further north into the Somali country, it would not be worth while running the risks of entering the country of such grasping, treacherous, religious fanatics as the southern Somalis are with an escort of fewer than 150 rifles.

All arms should be breechloading. Carbines are much handier for the porters than long rifles, though the askari can be armed with the latter. It would add to the dignity of the headman (at all events in his own opinion) if he were allowed a Winchester repeater. Sniders are much safer in the hands of the men than rifles of any other make, and are also cheaper. Although it is more than probable that the weapons will never be called into requisition for defensive purposes, the moral effect of a well-armed party on the natives is good, and they are far less likely to try any bouncing or bullying if they see that the party is strong enough not only to defend itself but to turn the tables on them. If there is not a rifle, belt and pouch for every porter in the caravan after the headman and askaris have received theirs, the rest should be equally distributed amongst the companies. This should not be done, however, until the day of starting, and just before the loads are allotted. On no account issue ammunition to the porters until nearing the Masai country, as there is nothing to be feared from any other natives, excepting the Somalis, north of the Tana river; the Suks, north of Lake Baringo; and the Wa Nandi between Elgeyo and Kavirondo. It is then necessary to be prepared in the event of falling in with a roving band of warriors and cattle-lifters. Ten rounds per man is enough for porters; the headman and askaris can each have twenty rounds, and these can be issued to them before leaving the coast. A small fine, say half a rupee, should be levied for every cartridge lost, or supposed to be lost, as the men are much given to selling their cartridges to the natives for food and ‘pombe’ (native beer), the natives buying them for the sake of the powder and lead.

Gun-bearers are rather difficult to find; that is to say, good ones. Any number of men will come forward and offer their services, although they have never acted as gun-bearers before, and know absolutely nothing about their duties. They do this because they prefer to carry a rifle, waterbottle, and cartridge-bag (in all some 25 lbs.), rather than a full load of 65 lbs. to 75 lbs., and because they know that they will have altogether an easier time of it than a porter or askari. On the other hand, men who have been gun-bearers to Europeans whom they either know personally or by reputation, and whom they would follow into any kind of danger, will not volunteer their services as gun-bearers to men they do not know, and in whom they have no confidence.

Most Africans are gifted with not only long but very quick sight, are capital walkers at their own pace, are often extraordinarily keen about sport, and will wish to go on after game when their master is dead beat and wants to return to camp. They are wonderfully patient followers on a blood spoor, and if they have confidence in their master will follow him anywhere after wounded game, and can be relied upon not to run away at a critical moment. Europeans, however, often complain that their gun-bearers do not keep up with them when out shooting; but this is very often their own fault. East Africa is a land of thorns and prickly spikes of every description. Europeans who are booted and clothed cannot well expect an almost bare-footed and bare-legged man, with only a thin cotton shirt on and a pair of sandals, to follow close at their heels (the proper place for a good gun-bearer) through clumps of thorns and sharp spiky aloes. To enable the two principal gun-bearers to keep in their proper positions they should each be provided with a suit of clothes, of the same material and make as their master’s, with leather knee-caps, &c., and either a pair of boots or, better still, leather socks and sandals. They should also be provided with any kind of old shooting cap, but not a red fez or white cap, the common headgear of the porters. In fact, a gun-bearer should be as little conspicuous and as thorn-proof as his master, and if this is seen to it will prevent disappointments, both from being sighted by game when stalking it or from losing wounded game through the gun-bearers being unable to keep in their proper position with either a spare rifle or ammunition. Gun-bearers should be provided with a good butcher’s knife apiece, and care should be taken that these are kept sharp, as the African native is naturally cruel, and will cut and hack at the throat of a wounded beast with a knife no sharper than a piece of hoop iron. A good butcher’s steel should be always taken out; it can be carried by one of the attendant porters, as it is rather an awkward thing for a gun-bearer to carry.

Besides the ordinary duty of gun-bearing when out shooting and when on the march, gun-bearers have other duties to perform. First, on arriving in camp they help to put up their master’s tent, and see that a small trench is dug round it to carry off the water in case of a downpour of rain. They then clean all their master’s rifles and guns, and, as a rule, do this well. It is also their duty to skin any heads and clean the skulls of the game shot, and attend generally to the trophies, though they always get friends to help them. When a beast has been killed, and their master has had the first choice of the meat, the perquisites to which gun-bearers are entitled, and which are now looked upon as theirs by ‘dusturi’ (custom), are the heart, liver, kidneys, &c., and any scraps of inside fat, and they take very good care to uphold their claims to these tit-bits. After a cold wet day or a first-rate day’s sport, a little tobacco as ‘backsheesh’ will delight them, and can do no harm by causing jealousy amongst the other men, as gun-bearers are looked upon in a caravan as favoured individuals.

In the matter of pay, unless other arrangements are made when engaging them, their wages and food are the same as an askari’s.

CHAPTER IX
HINTS ON EAST AFRICAN STALKING, DRIVING, ETC.

It is supposed by a good many people that the tsétsé fly only exists where game beasts, especially buffaloes, are most plentiful, and that the fly disappears as the game is killed off or driven away. This may be so in South Africa, but it is certainly not the case in East Africa, as the belts of fly country in East Africa are almost devoid of game, with the exception of the river Tana. As, however, the open, undulating, grassy plains of the Masai country, and other places of a like nature, are the headquarters of by far the greatest quantity and variety of game, and are entirely free from the tsétsé fly, and as they are also well adapted to hunting on horseback, the game would very soon be exterminated if pursuit on horseback were permitted, and I trust that when the game laws which will doubtless be drawn up for this, probably the finest game country in the world, are drafted, a clause will be introduced which will make the pursuit of game in this manner altogether illegal.

My first trip to East Africa was undertaken in the years 1884 to 1887, when that country was perhaps at its best with regard to the quantity of game. Within the last few years, however, since the country has been opened up, and the terrifying accounts of the dangers of entering the Masai country have proved to be absurdly exaggerated, various sporting expeditions have been undertaken, and large bags have been made. Some of the game is certainly reduced in quantity, especially rhinoceroses, owing to the ease with which these beasts can be stalked.

Buffaloes, too, have been almost destroyed by a kind of anthrax, the same disease which carried off nearly all the native cattle in 1891. This disease, I am told, was fatal to other species of game, including giraffe, eland, and lesser kudu, and even elephants; but as my informants could not speak from personal knowledge, but only from native reports, I am unable to vouch for their accuracy. However, game is still to be found in enormous quantities—indeed few countries, if any, can offer such a grand or varied field for sport. Within the limits of British East Africa there are forty-seven species, including no fewer than thirty-three species of antelopes and gazelles, which come under the head of big game. In addition to big game there are a great number and variety of game-birds, including ten species of francolin, four species of guinea-fowl, four of florican, five of sand-grouse, and two of quail, as well as enormous hosts of duck and geese of various kinds on the lakes and large lagoons, together with two species of snipe. All these add very considerably to the charm of a shooting trip, and afford a pleasant change from the rifle to the shot-gun, besides agreeably altering the monotonous menu of antelope venison or tough rhinoceros or buffalo steak.

As then, all the big game in British East Africa should be killed by honest stalking, without the aid of horses, and as the first principles of stalking have been dealt with elsewhere in these volumes, it only remains for me to call attention to a few points peculiar to stalking in East Africa.

To deal first with the wind, which here, as elsewhere, is the first matter for a stalker to consider, it may be said that in the plains and fairly open country the wind is generally steady in one quarter or another between the hours of eight or nine a.m. and sundown, except when the monsoons are beginning to change, and then it is constantly chopping and veering round from point to point throughout the day. In the early morning, between daylight and about eight o’clock, it is also steady and constant from one quarter, but between eight and nine it often chops about before settling into the quarter from which it will continue to blow for the rest of the day. That is to say, when the sportsman leaves camp at daylight the wind may be blowing from the south-east and will continue so up to any time between seven and nine o’clock, when, after chopping about for a short time, it will settle into another quarter, say north-east, for the rest of the day. In forest, thick bush, and long grass, it is often apt, at all times of the day, to be very changeable and uncertain, and may chop round in eddies when least expected, and this is what often makes shooting in these places so disappointing. It is therefore necessary to constantly test the wind. The most convenient and effectual way of doing this is to pick up and let fall from the hand a little sand, dust, or pulverised leaves. On a very still calm day, when there is not enough wind to affect dust or dry leaves, a puff of smoke from a pipe or from a match, will serve the same purpose if struck and blown out immediately. The smell of the tobacco smoke is in no way likely to frighten game, as, if a beast is able to detect it, it is equally certain that he will be able to wind the stalker. Personally, I use a pipe as a wind-finder more than anything else, and I have had a lighted pipe in my mouth at the time of firing at more than half of the game I have killed.

Before commencing a stalk up to dangerous game, the stalker should always put two or three cartridges for his big rifles into his pocket in order to have them handy and to render him perfectly independent of his gun-bearers. Even the best gun-bearers might fail him one day when in a critical position, and the want of a cartridge might be the cause of a very serious accident.

As elsewhere, so in Africa, one of the great secrets of success in big game shooting is to be up early and on the feeding grounds at daylight, when everything is in favour of the stalker. In the early morning most game will be found feeding, and will be more easily seen when so occupied than later on in the day when lying down in the shade of a tree or bush, with only one of the herd standing up. This beast, if it is the sentinel of a herd, will in all probability be a female, or a male with an inferior head, as the old bulls and bucks rarely act sentry; or it may be a solitary individual not worth stalking. The stalker, being possibly a long way off at the time of sighting it, and unable to see whether there is a herd lying concealed near it in the grass or not, may miss a good chance at a beast with a first-rate head through a pardonable dislike to going a long way out of his track on an off-chance. But when feeding the stalker has a good chance of examining with his binoculars each individual beast in the herd, he can compare one with another, and mark those with the best heads.

Then, again, in the early-morning the air is fresh and the ground cool, and a long stalk is not nearly so fatiguing then as later on; whilst in the cool hours of the early morning it is much easier to judge distances, as the air is clear and there is no haze. This haze, which only appears after the sun is well up, is caused by the moisture of the earth being evaporated by the sun. It is most noticeable after a heavy dew or a shower of rain, and is not only very apt to deceive even the most experienced in regard to distances, but as it makes everything appear to be in a perpetual quiver, it renders shooting very difficult. When taking a sight under such conditions the beast aimed at will often appear very indistinct, and will seem to move about in front of the muzzle of the rifle.

There is still another argument in favour of early morning stalks, and that is, that as all game beasts are thoroughly awake, and on the alert, even though engrossed in feeding, the stalker knows that he must exercise all his wits to the very utmost to keep out of sight, not only of the beast or beasts he may be stalking, but of other game which may be either to the right or left of him. This knowledge saves a man from carelessness, and makes him do his very utmost in that keen rivalry between animal instincts and human skill, in which lies the whole charm of big game shooting. But although the early morning has its advantages, a good many of which are of the nature of personal convenience and comfort to the stalker, and has also its many charms, which are not to be experienced later on in the day, it certainly has a fair amount of disadvantages. To begin with, as a rule, game is not so easy to approach when feeding as when standing about or lying down. When feeding beasts are constantly moving, and although they may be in a capital position when the stalker first tries to circumvent them, they very often move into an unapproachable one by the time he gets up to within range of where they had been; and of course, as before suggested, all beasts are very wide awake in the early hours of the morning, whilst, instead of being protected by only one sentinel as at other times, the whole herd is more or less on the qui vive, and the stalker may be detected at any moment by any beast which may happen to raise its head, or which may wander in his direction after some dainty morsel of grass and keep him waiting-in an awkward position.

The beast with the best head is not unfrequently in an awkward position for a shot, or out of range, and the stalker, being unable to improve his position or get nearer for fear of being seen by some of the other beasts, has either to risk a long shot at the best head or content himself with an easier and more certain shot at an inferior one. In this case, it is far better to give up the stalk for the time, and try your luck another day.

As an example of what can be done by a little patience and perseverance, I was successful in bagging the finest specimen of a bull eland ever shot by a European in East Africa, after a very long and tedious stalk on five consecutive days. This grand beast was accompanied by three cows, and each day they were found in the same locality, never more than a mile from the place at which I left them the previous day. This was a narrow strip of open plain, some two miles long by about a mile in width, which opened out at each end into a large open plain. The narrow strip was bordered on each side by thick bush and clumps of forest trees, and this appeared to be used by the enormous herds of game as a passage from one plain to the other. As I always found these four elands standing out well towards the middle of the strip, where there were only a few isolated mimosa-trees dotted about, the stalking was very tedious work, and as there was no covert but grass twelve to eighteen inches high, it was necessary to make a long crawl from the very outskirts of the bush. On each of the first three days I almost succeeded in getting within range, when the elands were alarmed by a shot fired in the distance and moved off, afterwards standing in such an exposed position that a stalk was quite impossible. On the fourth morning I was stalking them across the wind, which was blowing from my left, and was again nicely reducing the distance between myself and the bull, who was standing by himself under the shade of a thorn-tree, whilst the cows were quietly feeding some twenty yards beyond him.

As I lay under the shade of a small bush, which was within about 300 yards of the elands, taking a short rest, I noticed all four beasts suddenly raise their heads and stare hard up wind, evidently on the alert. At first I could not see anything to alarm them, and felt quite sure that they had not got a taint of my wind. On getting into a sitting position behind the bush, I saw a dark object in the grass dead to windward of the elands, and about the same distance from them as I was. My first idea was that it was a man, and I concluded that the fellow must be an idiot to attempt to stalk down wind, when I suddenly got a better view, and with the aid of my binoculars made out a lion and lioness, and saw that they were actually on the same business as myself. Wishing to see the result, I sat still and watched them, and could just manage to follow their movements, though I could only distinguish a small piece of the dark mane of the lion above the grass as he crawled slowly along. When the lions came to a tuft of rather longer grass they both raised their heads for a second, but the elands apparently took no notice of them, as they still stood perfectly motionless. As the lions crept on very slowly they came to another tuft of slightly taller grass, and the lion again raised his head, but this time he was seen by the elands, which all turned round and trotted off straight down wind. The lions then stood up, and after watching the elands a short time lay down in the grass; but before I could crawl up to them and get a shot, they went off for the bush on the other side of the plain. The elands were then thoroughly on the alert and in a bad position for a further stalk, and although I believe I could have got up to within a couple of hundred yards of them, rather than risk a long shot, and perhaps only frighten them away from the locality altogether, I left them in peace for the fourth time. Returning on the fifth morning very early, while skirting along outside the edge of the bush, keeping a sharp look-out, I found them in a grand position for a stalk, as they were not more than 400 yards from the edge of the bush on my side of the plain. The bull was lying down, one cow stood close by him, evidently on the look-out, whilst the other two were quietly feeding. Entering the bush, I skirted along inside the edge until I was just opposite to the elands. I then saw that between them and the bush in which I stood, with the wind blowing straight from them to me, there was a largish piece of bush some twenty yards long, though rather narrow and very thin, and not more than eighty yards from where the bull was lying. Between this patch and myself there was little or no covert of any kind, excepting grass which was about a foot high and very scanty, and one small skeleton bush within about twenty yards of the larger patch. I managed, however, by crawling flat on my stomach, followed by my pet gun-bearer, to get up to this scanty covert, and could just see through the larger patch that the bull was still lying down. At this moment, and before I could get any nearer, to my disgust I heard a shot fired in the distance. The bull stood up, and as he stared in the direction from which the shot had come I heard another report; but, as great good luck would have it, instead of bolting all four elands began to walk quietly towards where I lay. Exchanging my .500 Express for the 8-bore, as I wished to make certain of getting the bull, I waited, and thought they never would appear round the corner of the bush in front of me, as they kept stopping to look round every few paces.

In a short time a cow appeared round the corner within thirty yards of where I lay. I could still see the bull lagging behind, and was terribly afraid that this cow would detect me before he appeared; but she took no notice of me and walked straight on. Soon after this another cow appeared, and I could see the bull standing just on the other side of the bush, but would not risk a shot at him through it. At last his grand head appeared, but nothing more, and he again stopped. I shall never forget my feeling of intense excitement during those few seconds. I was in a most awkward position, lying flat on my face, and literally aching with suspense and suppressed excitement, and yet I dare not move to get into a better position for a shot, for fear of being seen by either of the two cows. At last the bull took a few steps forward, and I wriggled myself into a sitting position, gave him both barrels, one after the other, and after running about sixty yards he fell over dead. Never shall I forget my joy when I saw him drop. He was a grand beast with horns 31⅝ and 31 ins. respectively in length, and 25 ins. from tip to tip. His heart was encased in a solid piece of fat, which, after the heart had been cut out of it, and after it had been exposed to the sun for four hours, was found to weigh 18 lbs.