The women of the place fashion clay pots out of the mud found on the banks of the Bara-Issa. These pots are very simple in design, but are useful as water coolers.

The finest men found in this country are certainly the hunters. They are brawny fellows, of fine stature and hard muscles. Their eyes are keen through long practice in following game, while their powers of tracking are undeniable. In the course of my hunting expeditions I came in contact with a good many of them, and one could not but admire their strength and endurance. The hunters are nearly all Bambaras, living in small groups in the different villages. They exist entirely by what they can shoot; although I must own that I was hardly impressed with their prowess with the gun. On one occasion I recollect seeing my head hunter stalk a gazelle. I and the other hunters were spectators from the fringe of some bushes about two hundred yards away. The gazelle was quietly browsing in an open piece of ground with little available cover between it and its stalker. Nothing could exceed the skill with which he crossed the intervening ground unperceived, until he had taken up a position not ten yards from the animal, concealed by a friendly small shrub. It was really a fine piece of stalking; it seemed almost incredible that he could have approached so close unknown to his intended victim.

Breathlessly I watched the scene through my glasses, fully expecting that the unfortunate little animal would be blown to smithereens at such short range.

There was a deafening report, but when the smoke cleared I was astonished to see the gazelle bounding away at the top of its speed quite scathless!

The hunter did not appear to be much mortified by his failure, so I could only suppose it was not an unusual occurrence for game to be missed at such close range.

These hunters are all armed with old flint-lock guns, rather formidable-looking weapons, but often more dangerous to the owner than to the object fired at. They are five feet in length, with barrels made out of old gas-pipes or anything that comes handy. Missfires are frequent owing to indifferent powder, and the weapon has to be fired from the hip as the recoil is so violent. The guns are first loaded with a big charge of black powder, extending some inches up the barrel. A piece of old cloth is then rammed down to keep the powder in position. The shot comes next, consisting of a varied assortment of stones, bits of lead, scraps of iron, etc., the whole charge being rammed home with a piece of rag, and extending three-quarters of the way up the barrel. The tendency is for the missiles to fly high and scatter; but, if fairly aimed, the damage done is considerable, as instead of inflicting a single wound, possibly some dozen pellets strike the victim.

It was while I was near Saraféré that I got my lion. One afternoon I heard news of a lion having been seen that morning, about fifteen miles from my camp. He had attacked a herd of Fulani cattle, making off with one of the cows.

I lost no time in setting out for the village nearest to the scene of the “kill.” I rode off with a guide to show the way, leaving my kit to follow me the same evening. That night I camped at the village to which the cow belonged.

There seemed every prospect of my finding the lion the following morning, for he would probably despatch his meal in his lair hard by, and rest there to sleep off the effects for some hours.

Accompanied by my two hunters and a native who knew the spot, I set out before daylight. We had to cross a stream which lay between the village and the place where the cow had been killed. On the other side was a sandy scrub country, dotted about with the ever-present dum palms. These palms here grew in clumps, some of which were a hundred yards in diameter, but the palms themselves were more in the nature of bushes, and not more than twelve feet high. It was beginning to get light, but the undergrowth in these clumps was so thick that one could seldom see more than a few yards inside. These clumps were the lair of the lion, although it was not certain in which one he would then be found.

After tracking him from his “kill” for some distance, we discovered the place where he had dragged the remains of his victim. However, it was soon evident that he had since emerged from there, and we now followed his pug marks of that morning, clearly defined in the sandy soil. At last he was traced to a certain clump, thicker than the rest, in which he certainly was lying. It being impossible to see inside, the only plan was to try to frighten the brute out. Accordingly I sent the beater and hunters to different points, where, at a given signal, they were to commence to shout and beat the bush with the object of driving him towards me. The ruse succeeded in causing him to bound out of his hiding-place, but unfortunately on the opposite side to me, so that I never saw him. I dashed round to the far side and just caught a glimpse of him disappearing towards another clump of palms.

Now ensued a curious race between us and the lion. I knew that, should I lose sight of him for long, he would probably give me the slip, for these beasts travel great distances when alarmed.

We accordingly pursued him at our best speed, until he was viewed disappearing into another clump. Again he got away before I had a chance of a shot. This race continued for another mile or so, when I was decidedly winded and the perspiration streaming off me. At last I came up with the beast, in a palm grove, and, cautiously following his tracks into the bush for a few paces, I suddenly saw him, in a more open spot than usual, about forty yards away.

He stood facing me, his splendid eyes glaring wickedly, while he lashed his tail and uttered some low roars.

Here was a fine opportunity; so, raising my ·450 rifle, I fired, and he dropped with a bullet through his head.

Keen as I was, I do not think I could have maintained the race much longer, for I was quite winded and had some difficulty in keeping my rifle steady as I fired; but the range was so close, and I could see him so distinctly, that the shot was an easy one.

The lion of this country is not a handsome creature. The colour is a pale tawny, and the animal is maneless. Moreover, it is my firm conviction that he is an arrant coward. My own experience, and what the Fulani herdsmen have told me, both tend to support this idea. I have been told more than once of cases in which a lion had jumped on one of the herd with the intention of killing and carrying off its prey, but had been driven off by a single-handed Fulah armed merely with a stick. It seems rather ridiculous that a lion can be frightened off his victim, by thwacking him with a stick, but there is no doubt that it has been often done by these people.

The Fulanis hold the lion in contempt rather than in awe, and, I fancy, he only succeeds as a rule in securing his prey because the herds are too large for one man to supervise.

These Fulanis, whom one meets so often in the Western Soudan, are an interesting race of people.

They are certainly not of negro origin, for they have straight hair, aquiline features, thin lips, and pale reddish brown skins. There is a mystery about the land of their forefathers, but it cannot have been in Western Africa. Some people say they came originally from Egypt. To support this theory it is stated that the word “Fulah” is a corruption of the word “Felah” of Egypt. Their appearance is somewhat Egyptian also. On the other hand, it is not easy to trace a close connection between their language and customs and those of Egypt.

Many maintain that they came from the other side of the Red Sea. Their own version of their history is exceedingly vague. Anyhow, it seems clear that they came from the East, as they have left traces of their progress from the East to the West of Africa. They are far superior in intellect to the negro, having shown their superiority by conquering all with whom they have come in contact. They are essentially a pastoral people, whose chief object in life appears to be to excel in the size of their herds. Their dwelling-places are generally temporary ones, where they stay as long as the pasturage is sufficient for their cattle. As soon as the grass gets poor they shift their dwellings to more favourable spots. The Fulah counts his wealth by his bulls and cows. All the money he makes is laid out in increasing his stock. He has a wonderful knowledge of cattle, and a marvellous power of calling to strayed animals. By uttering some weird low cry they can recall their beasts even from considerable distances.

Fulanis have made their way almost to the coast. They are found in many places in small colonies, generally forming the cattle-owning population of a place. The province of Futa-Jallon in French Guinea is inhabited by them, otherwise they have no big strongholds until the Middle Niger is reached. But from there to Northern Nigeria they are found in certain places in considerable numbers. Except for tending cattle they do no work themselves, being decidedly indolent. The housework and any farm work are entirely done by slaves, or servants. Slaves are well treated by them, and many slaves stay with their masters in serfdom in preference to taking their liberty, which they can do at any time they wish, by making a statement to this effect before a French Commissioner.

The Fulanis are all fervent Mohammedans. Wherever there are Fulanis there will be found a mosque. These people have shown themselves able administrators in the places which they governed before the advent of the white man. Their laws were just, while their method of appointing civil administrators to the various districts into which a country was subdivided was sound. It would be interesting to know more about the past of these people, and it is much to be hoped that further light may one day be thrown on their origin.

CHAPTER XVI

Land near the Bara-Issa — Tuaregs — A salt caravan — Stalking hartebeest — Lake Niangaye — The village of Kanioumé — My runaway horse — Tracking elephants — Elephants bathing — A stampede of elephants — A wounded elephant — Cave dwellers — Sandstorms and rifles.

ON the 21st of March I left Saraféré. I had managed to buy a horse here, being glad to have my own mount at last. He was a little animal, a dark bay, about fourteen hands; not exactly the most suitable beast for the work for which I required him, but horses were not easy to buy. In any case, the price could not be called exorbitant. I paid the sum of seventy-five francs, or three pounds, for him, the saddle and bridle included!

I still had to be content with a native saddle and bridle, for European horse-gear was not to be had in the Western Soudan. His previous owner was a native clerk in the Resident’s office, who informed me that he was selling as he proposed closing his stables! Fortunately I was a light weight, and as he appeared to be a wiry little beggar in spite of his somewhat weedy looks, I came to the conclusion he would be good enough for what was expected of him. He was, of course, innocent of any knowledge of trotting. His only two paces were an amble and a walk. He could amble fast or he could amble slow, but had not much idea of galloping.

The country was very similar to that between Sébi and Saraféré. In the season of inundations it would not have been practicable to travel by road, as the existing track would have been several feet deep in water. The only mode of transport then possible is by canoe. Rice and millet are the products of this country, the land near the streams and backwaters of the Bara-Issa being eminently suited to the cultivation of these cereals. On the banks of these streams are the villages, but as soon as one strikes into the interior, away from the water, the country becomes more than ever desert-like in character, and human habitations are confined to a few isolated Tuareg encampments. The people in the villages are Fulanis, as usual possessed of big herds of cattle. The Tuaregs, on the other hand, owned sheep and goats, which seemed to thrive in a marvellous manner on the poor provender found in the sandy waste surrounding them. A coarse-looking grass, or mimosa scrub, formed their fare.

These Tuaregs are hardly the same class of that tribe as are found in the desert proper on the other side of the Niger. They are nomads, preferring the isolated life away from villages, it is true, but at the same time they do not so utterly shun all contact with mankind as do their brethren of the Sahara. I suppose being nearer to civilization and luxuries, they have begun to feel the want of these things, and have to a certain extent degenerated. Anyway, they would appear to be now less hardy than before. Their dwelling-places consist either of small tents made of sheepskins, or else of little huts made of branches of mimosa scrub and palm leaves. Hut is rather a dignified name to apply to these habitations. They are, perhaps, a dozen feet square, and so low that a man must always remain in a crouched position if he tries to stand up inside. It is strange how they succeed in getting their wives and families into this tiny space. Certainly their personal belongings are few, for they are very poor, and their wealth, such as it is, is all in their flocks of goats or sheep.

One day we met a large salt caravan coming down from Timbuctu, and en route to a place called Douentza, some days’ march south of Saraféré. The salt is carried in big rectangular bars, and, in this case, was laden on donkeys and bullocks. The loads are usually fastened into a kind of stout rope netting, like a bag. These nets are then fastened one on each side of the beast of burden, over a roughly shaped pack-saddle.

These traders were all Hausas, travelling with their wives and children. They cover about fifteen miles a day in this manner, and are so abstemious in their habits that they generally make a large profit on their transactions. They drink only water as a rule, while their diet is of the most frugal kind, helped out with a few kola nuts, of which they are exceedingly fond. The nut has rather a bitter taste, but one soon gets accustomed to it. The Hausas can exist without food for a considerable time, provided they have some kola nut to chew. There is no doubt that its sustaining properties are great, while, when water has been scarce, I have found it a first-rate plan to keep a piece of the fruit in one’s mouth and close the teeth on it.

The head of this caravan was a native merchant of some importance. Early next morning we saw him on the road preparing to start. He wore flowing white robes, and made a picturesque figure mounted on his gaily caparisoned steed. I was informed he was a regular trader by that route, and that he always personally superintended the assembly of his caravan before the morning departure. He certainly seemed to have a rather motley collection of both sexes who were under him in perfect control. At his orders they sought out, without much delay, their respective beasts from the grass where they were browsing, and loaded their charges in a most business-like manner.

This place, called Bouramaka-Yororo, was one of the few spots where I saw any full snipe. About two miles’ walk from the village there were some shallow ponds, with marshy banks, which were the homes of these snipe, besides quantities of the grey teal, which I previously described. Most of the different kinds of duck, which I had come across before, were also well represented, but in comparison to the grey teal their numbers were insignificant. The water was covered with a grey sheet of these little birds, but they were very wild, and rose in the air in dense clouds on observing our approach.

The next day we had a long march, through a very sandy region, to the western extremity of Lake Niangaye. We had now left the water system of the River Bara-Issa behind us, and the country was destitute of water until the lake was reached.

I was riding ahead of the carriers with the policeman, as my custom was, when, as we came round a bend in the track, we espied a big herd of Senegal haartebeest. The animals had evidently been down towards the lake, and on perceiving us, galloped off through the scrub to our right front. There were at least forty in the herd, and, in the hopes that they had not gone too far for pursuit, I started off on their tracks. The trail was easy enough to follow, so, leaving the police orderly with our horses, I went off alone. The ground sloped gently in front of me, so I cautiously approached the top, expecting to see the antelope grazing on the far side. Working with the wind in my face, I wended my way gradually to the ridge, and, taking cover behind a mimosa tree, I peered warily over the edge. Sure enough, about eight hundred yards away were the herd, some grazing, while others had their heads turned in the direction from which they had come, evidently not forgetful of the alarm our appearance had caused among them.

I now tried to stalk them by a flank movement, making for a hillock within two hundred yards of the game. Here I hoped to be able to select the best head, and should be within fairly good range. My manœuvring was completely successful until I neared the top of the hillock, and then, by an incautious movement, I foolishly exposed myself to view for a fraction of a second. To my disgust I had been observed, and away scampered the whole herd at a pace which I knew meant that pursuit was out of the question. I took a couple of flying shots at the one I had marked down as being the biggest bull, but they were both clean misses, and I was unable to retrieve the blunder I had made by exposing myself to view. I only saw one herd of these haartebeest as big as this one again. I fancy forty animals in a herd is nothing out of the ordinary, but in the Western Soudan, from my experience, they are generally in much smaller herds.

After the incident of the haartebeest we continued our march towards the lake. The carriers had by this time come up with me, and were eager to get to the water, as the day was hot and they had nothing to drink by the way. Accordingly we pushed on at a good pace, until suddenly a silvery gleam came into view on the horizon, being evidently the first glimpse of Niangaye. As we approached the water became more visible. Here we were near the western extremity of the lake, which extended eastward as far as the eye could reach, while the breadth must have been about three miles. The shores were sandy, and the banks covered with dried-up grass and small bushes. Occasionally a canoe could be seen speeding along under sail, propelled by a stiff breeze from the north-east. The water was a fine open expanse; there were a few clumps of reeds at times near the shores, but these were not dense enough to interfere with navigation.

The wind referred to blows almost constantly from the same quarter. It is strongest from about sunrise till 11 a.m., while in the evening it dies down altogether as a rule. It thus causes a regular tide, with a difference between high and low water of about two feet. As the lake is shallow, the bed shelving very gently, there is a considerable difference between the width of the sandy beach available as a road in the morning and afternoon. The quantity of water in the lake varies greatly with the season of the year; indeed, at the end of the dry weather, about May, it is possible to walk across the lake in several places without so much as wetting the feet.

Lake Niangaye is one of the largest, if not quite the largest, of a system of lakes and backwaters of the Niger and its affluents in the south-west corner of the “Bend” of that river. Lake Niangaye is the most easterly of this system. The whole of this large area is known as the “Lake District,” and all round these waters game of all descriptions abounds. During the season when water is abundant everywhere the game has no difficulty about drinking; it is therefore scattered all over this area, and not so easy to locate. In the dry months, from January to May, however, the case is very different. Water gets scarcer every month, and the drinking-places become more and more restricted, so that the game has to concentrate around the immediate shores of the lakes to get water. Consequently this is the best time of the year for shooting, although one disadvantage is that the heat gets very intense, and, under these conditions, tracking game becomes a very exhausting pastime. The sandy soil surrounding the lakes for many miles scorches the feet, while the sun beats mercilessly down upon the sportsman’s head. Of course, many kinds of animals retire when the sun gets up in the heavens, about nine o’clock; but this is often the best time to find such game as Senegal haartebeest and gazelle, which can be discovered resting from the heat of the day in the shade of a mimosa tree. These animals are sometimes very shy and unapproachable in the early morning or evening, and frequently one’s only chance of a shot at a beast you have been tracking for some time is during the middle of the day, when he is not so much on the alert.

The village we entered near the western end of the lake was called Kanioumé. I was particularly anxious to stop a few hours here, in order to interview the chief. He was the most influential man in this region, all the villages on the southern shore of Niangaye being subservient to him. This man was a Fulah, and as he had had constant dealings with the Commissioner of the district, on account of his influential position in the country, I had been recommended to make arrangements for local hunters, supplies, and so forth through him. I had been given the names of the best hunters in the district, and was told that this chief would be able to furnish me with them.

The chief was most obliging, providing me with everything I required without delay; but the hunters were not forthcoming. They were, he said, at Douentza, several days’ march away, and the head-quarters of the French Resident. Fortunately, I had taken the precaution, before leaving Saraféré, to write to the Resident of Douentza, informing him of my intended hunting trip in his country, and at the same time mentioning that I wished for the services of these particular hunters. I therefore hoped that they would soon reach me. This chief informed me, and I subsequently discovered that his statement was perfectly correct, that there were practically no native hunters in the region. It appeared that the Fulanis, who formed almost the entire population of this part of the Lake District, never themselves hunted, hence the difficulty of securing a man who knew the haunts of the game in the neighbourhood was great. It seems strange that these people, living in the midst of a country inhabited by wild animals, should not care to hunt them, but so it is. The chief, however, relieved my worst apprehensions to a certain extent by assuring me that at Bambara-Maaundé there was one hunter; I therefore bade him send at once to the man to tell him to be ready to meet me there the next day. At the end of the palaver I rejoiced the chief’s heart with a present of a head of tobacco from my now dwindling store of the leaf.

The chief and a cavalcade of his retinue accompanied me as far as the next village, some six miles further along the lake, where I was going to spend the night. Having made all arrangements for our comfort there, he took his departure.

After leaving Kanioumé the lake widens considerably. The opposite shore cannot be seen until within about three miles of the eastern extremity. The total length of Niangaye is about thirty-five miles. Near Bambara-Maaundé the eastern end is divided into two forks by a high ridge of hills, the width of the neck of land at the foot of these hills and separating the two forks of water being about five miles. The southern shore is much more wooded than the northern shore, but even on the south there are frequently stretches of sandy country without any vegetation other than a coarse grass. The northern shore is also covered in many places with dense reeds, making navigation more difficult. On both sides of the lake the ground rises rather rapidly, until a plateau, two to three hundred feet above the level of the water, is reached. Most of the game is on this plateau on the southern side of Niangaye, merely coming down daily to drink.

For a few days I made Bambara-Maaundé my head-quarters, leaving camp early every morning and returning at midday, then going out again in the afternoon. I found the hunter, who had been ordered to be ready at the village, awaiting my arrival. So far there was no news from Douentza of the two hunters I had sent for, so I sent another urgent runner to the Resident for them. The day after my arrival I shot a fine Senegal haartebeest, within two hours of camp, and this was the occasion when I lost my horse temporarily.

I had ridden out with the hunter, as was my custom, when we got on to the tracks of a fine solitary bull haartebeest. I dismounted to follow it on foot, leaving the horse with the hunter and my second rifle-bearer. I soon perceived him about six hundred yards away, browsing at the top of a little rise. The ground was very open and sloped up gradually towards him, so I had to be very cautious in stalking. Fortune favoured me this time, and I was able to get within comfortable shot, unperceived. The first bullet dropped him, mortally wounded through the lungs. My hunter came up with the horses. These he tied up while we were skinning the animal, having secured the end of my horse’s bridle to the branch of a mimosa tree.

We were busily engaged with our hunting knives when I suddenly looked up and saw my steed, having slipped his head-collar, trotting quietly down the hill. He gradually increased his pace to a gallop before we had time to stop him, until he was lost to view. I sent the rifle-bearer after in pursuit, thinking he would catch him grazing quietly at the nearest spot, where he could find some good grass. To cut a long story short, the native lost the horse’s tracks on some hard, rocky ground, returning about two hours later with the news. There was nothing for it but to walk back to camp and send out parties to search for my mount, if he had not returned, as I hoped, to the village. He was not at the camp, whither I returned ignominiously on foot, so I told the chief to send out search parties.

All available horses were collected to mount the tracking party, and when the men were assembled they were really rather a picturesque group. The Fulah on horseback looks quite his best, for these men have a good seat and are good horsemen, but, like most natives, they are bad horsemasters. There was a collection of some twenty men, armed with the national weapon, a spear, looking more as if they were going out to fight than to look for a lost horse.

It was not till long after nightfall that I heard a great stir outside, and, by the light of a bright moon, I could perceive mounted figures rapidly approaching across the plain. On they came at full gallop, brandishing their spears and uttering wild cries, until they arrived opposite my camp, when they drew rein so suddenly as to throw their steeds on to their haunches. By the triumphant cries I guessed the horse had been found, as, indeed, he had. I think he must have lost himself, as, when they discovered him, he was lying down, tired out, and apparently only too glad to be caught and led back to camp.

After a few days’ good sport, but still without news of the Douentza hunters, I determined to wait no longer, but to start for the elephant country with my local hunter at once. My so-called hunter was really not of much use, except as a guide to show me the road home at the end of the day, for his knowledge of the whereabouts of game was decidedly limited. He was also hardly an experienced tracker, but still, in this respect he might have been worse. In these circumstances I had to go and ascertain the place where the elephant were now to be found for myself, before I could decide where to pitch my camp. On one of my shooting trips I had come across some old spoor, leading down to the lake. I now went to this place with a view to making it the base of my tracking operations, intending to work backwards from there, in order to try to find the feeding-grounds of this herd. All this country is so thinly populated that for miles there are no habitations, and therefore I could not expect to get any information from natives.

That day I camped temporarily close to the place where these old tracks existed, near the brink of Niangaye. It was here that fortune smiled upon me for a change. That evening, just I was retiring for the night, I heard a low thundering noise, and noticed the peculiar strong odour which is found with elephants. I at once came to the conclusion that they must be coming down to bathe at the lake, and, moreover, could not be far off. Hastily seizing my rifle and throwing on some khaki clothes over my light-coloured pyjamas, I went out of my tent at the same instant that the local hunter came to tell me the elephant were indeed approaching the lake. It was a beautiful moonlight night, and the animals sounded so near that I was afraid they would see the camp and take alarm, so I gave instructions for everyone to keep perfectly quiet and for the fires to be put out. It did, indeed, seem a strange thing that they should almost run into my camp the night I arrived there!

As I cautiously crept through the light bush, making a wide circuit to avoid giving them my wind, I shall never forget the splendid sight that broke on my view. In front of me was a herd of some forty elephants, drinking and bathing in the water of the lake. A bright moon shed her rays on the scene, making the water sparkle in a silvery sheen, while thousands of stars twinkled in the deep blue sky overhead. These splendid creatures appeared to be thoroughly enjoying themselves, and I waited under cover to feast my eyes on the sight for a few seconds. I could see them revelling in the luxury of their bath, douching themselves with water taken up in their trunks, splashing and disporting themselves in high frolic.

At this moment how I longed to be able to take a photograph of this remarkable scene, of which, though it is so vividly pictured on my memory, I have no other record!

I carefully singled out the best tuskers and waited my opportunity for a shot. To advance any further would have been fatal, for I was now on the edge of the scrub, and between me and the elephant was a narrow strip of open sandy beach, while they were some thirty yards further in the water, possibly altogether eighty yards from me.

Having drunk their fill, the great beasts proceeded to retreat leisurely homewards. Now would be my opportunity for a shot. Manœuvring to keep the best tuskers in view, I had no difficulty in shooting down one as he stopped, within twenty yards of me, while he reached at a branch with his great trunk. I hit him through the ear in the brain, and he fell on the spot. At the same instant I saw the other tusker close at hand, and gave him two bullets in rapid succession. He was hard hit, but did not fall. The whole occurrence had not taken more than a few seconds, but before I had time to reload the noise was deafening.

The huge herd, evidently more frightened than enraged, except perhaps for the wounded elephant, by the report of my rifle and the fall of their comrade, stampeded. They charged violently forward in all directions, trampling under foot all that came in their way, screaming and trumpeting as they went.

Some half-dozen came careering towards me; there was neither time nor space to evade them, and I must own my life seemed not worth a minute’s purchase just then. I thought I must inevitably be crushed to atoms under their massive feet; there seemed no chance of escape. In the hope of making myself as inconspicuous as possible, I flung myself flat on the ground, knowing all the time that though they might not notice me in their impetuous flight, those gigantic forms could hardly avoid running over my prostrate body.

By great good fortune something, I cannot for the life of me think what it was, made them swerve aside, passing within a few inches of me where I lay. I can hardly describe what a tiny, impotent creature one feels at such a moment. How powerless was I against one of these animals, should he by chance brush against me! I suppose that is about the narrowest escape I ever had, and an experience I am not anxious to repeat.

In an incredibly short space of time the whole herd had disappeared, the only sign of their recent visit being the clouds of dust, the trampled soil, and the dead elephant.

While this scene had been going on the hunter, my servant, and my following had bolted in all directions, alarmed, I suppose, lest the elephants should rush through the camp. When quiet had been restored the natives began to return. The excitement had been rather trying, and there was nothing further to be done that night. I gave orders for an early start in the morning in pursuit of the wounded elephant, while the men left in camp were to cut up the dead animal.

Accompanied by the hunter I started before daylight, following the tracks which were fairly visible. The wounded animal had kept company with the rest of the herd, for, within a mile or two of camp, all the separated tracks of the scattered elephants reunited. As the day dawned it became clear from the blood that he had been severely wounded. I thought that the first shot had hit him in the head, and the second a little below the heart as he turned broadside to me, but of this I could not be sure. We were able to follow the tracks at a gentle amble, so distinct were they. After proceeding thus for about seven miles, we arrived at the top of the rising ground and on to the plateau, which I have previously mentioned. The scrub now got thicker, but there was no difficulty in riding anywhere. Proceeding another five miles or so, we suddenly came across the wounded elephant standing under a small tree, sheltering from the sun, for it was getting hot and was now nine o’clock. There had been nothing to indicate that his footsteps were lagging. However, he must have got tired and been unable to keep up with the rest of the herd any longer.

The hunter was carrying my big rifle at this time, while I had the ·303 slung at my saddle. Seizing the ·450 from him I rapidly dismounted, while all this time the elephant appeared not to have noticed us, having its back turned in our direction. I skirted through the bush in order to get a shot at its brain, the animal being, I suppose, not more than thirty yards away. As I faced it it suddenly perceived me and lifted up its trunk as if to charge; I was then not twenty yards off. I fired under its uplifted trunk, when it swerved aside, the blood streaming from its mouth. A second shot penetrated its brain, and it fell to the ground quite dead.

The tusks of this elephant weighed fifty-two pounds each, while the other had ivory weighing just over forty-five pounds on either side. The ivory was not big, but I was given to understand that, for that country, the tusks were very fair, and that it was rare to get tusks weighing even sixty pounds; so under the circumstances I was fortunate.

It is a curious fact that the elephant of this region do not carry big ivory, although possibly the explanation is a simple one. There are no big trees in the country, which is an extraordinarily open one for elephant, consisting of sandy soil, light scrub and, in places, mimosa or other trees never more than thirty or forty feet high. Such is the district in which these animals are here found; besides, water is scarce. Away from the lake there is no water of any description for nearly forty miles.

Having found the line of retreat of the elephant, and knowing that it lay through a waterless tract of country, I decided to provision myself with water next day and attempt to come up with the herd again. Accordingly, the following morning very early, equipped with three days’ water supply, I set out in pursuit of the herd. It seemed evident that they must have a permanent feeding-ground, which could supply them with better provender than was obtainable in the country I had seen, and the chances were that if I could discover this feeding-ground I should also find the elephant. The tracks were plainly discernible nearly the whole way; only once did we lose them for a short time on some stony ground. Proceeding for about six miles beyond the place where I had found the wounded elephant, I noticed the country becoming much more wooded. We were now about eighteen miles from Lake Niangaye. Here the tracks of the elephant branched off in various directions, and it was without doubt their feeding-ground.

Picking up the biggest tracks we could see, we followed these for some distance through this wooded region. The ground here was quite rocky in many places, the sandy soil having disappeared. I had noticed that the ivory of my tusks was chipped, and it seemed that this must be the solution. Probably these elephant broke their tusks on the hard, rocky surface of their feeding-place. This wooded country appeared to extend for a considerable distance in a southerly direction.

Still following the tracks of this animal, which led to a place where he had evidently slept the previous night, we suddenly crossed some perfectly fresh tracks of another elephant. It was some hours later, when following this elephant, which I had wounded, that I came across a strange tribe of people who dwell in caves. The elephant’s tracks had led me to the foot of the Hombori Mountains, and it is here that these people live. They wear practically no clothing, and are very timid. Probably they had hardly seen a white man in those parts before. They are called the Habbés. They live chiefly by hunting round the shores of a lake called Kurorua, lying at the foot of the hills. I could not understand their language, and being short of provisions I had to curtail my stay in their country. This place is about forty miles from Lake Niangaye, and it seemed that the elephant used to drink at one or other of these lakes, according to circumstances, their feeding-ground being nearly half-way between the two.

The Habbés use bows and arrows, but also have old-fashioned guns, for which they manufacture their own powder out of saltpetre, found locally. Their bullets are more often made of small, sharp stones than of lead, but any rough missile will serve them.

Between the feeding-ground, which I discovered was called Tinsida, and Lake Kurorua, the country again becomes sandy and sparsely covered with vegetation. In all this sandy country the violent wind from the north-east, which I had experienced at Niangaye, blows. This wind raises sandstorms, which are not only most disagreeable, but are also very bad for the mechanism of a rifle should it be at all complicated. However careful one may be it is exceedingly difficult to avoid getting sand into the breech, with the result that a jam may occur. This actually happened to me at a very awkward moment, when hunting elephant. I had to abandon my ·450 and fire with my ·303. Fortunately for me the animal did not charge home, or I should probably have had some difficulty in stopping him with the light bullet of the small rifle. This was not the only occasion when I had a bad jam on account of the sand, and, later on, when crossing the Sahara, I found matters still worse, as the sandstorms were more frequent and more violent.

CHAPTER XVII

Bullocks — Pelicans on Lake Niangaye — Stalking ostriches — Friendly Tuaregs — Lakes and swamps — By canoe to Timbuctu — An intricate route — Horses of the Sonrhais — Kabara — Timbuctu — A quaint desert city — A change of route — A steel canoe — Yakubu — Explorers — Réné Caillé — Barth — Scenes in Timbuctu — The Sonrhay empire — Mosques — Salt trade — Saharan sirocco — Desert caravans.

ON the 3rd of April I returned to Bambara-Maaundé on my way north to Timbuctu. My first plan had been to march due north, but I could get no guide to show me the way. The Fulanis declared that the route was impracticable at this time of year, owing to the scarcity of water, and in any case they had no man to serve as guide who knew the route.

I had grave suspicions of the truth of their statements, but unfortunately was not in a position to prove they were lying. In the end I had to go the way they recommended as being the only one possible at the time of the year. This route entailed a two days’ march, followed by three days by canoe.

Carriers were not to be had as the Fulani is much too proud, or too lazy, to carry a load. So I had to hire bullocks for my baggage. Bullocks and camels, when obtainable, do all the transport in these regions. Bullocks can, at a pinch, march two days without water, carrying a load of about 150 lbs. They are humped oxen, very slow and sure in their movements. The driver—there is one to each animal—sits on the front of the hump, with the loads behind him, guiding his beast with a kind of rein passing through its nostrils.

At first we passed along the shores of Lake Niangaye, meeting on the way some camel and bullock caravans coming into the village. For the place is on the route from the north to Douentza market, and a fair amount of trade travels this way. A curious feature of this end of the lake is the number of pelicans seen on the water. They all congregate on the opposite side to Bambara-Maaundé, appearing to breed there in some quantities. In the evening the birds collect together, uttering strange cries, reminding one rather of the wildfowl on the seashores in the wilder parts of the British coast. They are uncouth-looking creatures with their enormous beaks, but seem to thrive wonderfully well on the fish of the lake. I suppose when the water here dries up they migrate to the Niger and its tributaries. I shot a few geese at Niangaye, but duck and teal were very scarce. The surrounding country is well stocked with sand-grouse and lesser bustard, but other varieties of game birds are not plentiful. I think I saw only one bushfowl, and the few guinea-fowl I shot appeared to be very tough. Indeed, I always noticed that the guinea-fowl shot in sandy districts was tough, irrespective of the age of the bird. I often wondered if possibly this was due to the semi-desert diet which they have to live on here.

We had to cross the high ridge of ground which separated the two easterly forks of the lake previously mentioned, and, when finally quitting the farthest fork of water, our journey took us through a patch of desert land. It was in this desert patch that I saw several ostriches. The huge birds were on the sky-line about half a mile away when I first noticed them, and, strangely enough, did not appear to have perceived me; for they moved in quite a leisurely manner out of sight, instead of striding off as they usually do when alarmed.

I decided to try to stalk them. Provided they did not move too rapidly the chances seemed to be in my favour, for the slope of the ground was such that I should be able to advance almost to the top of the ridge in front of me, unperceived. The wind helped me, as it was blowing directly in my face, so I was able successfully to carry out my plan, and, on arriving at the summit of the ridge, I got a fairly easy shot, lying behind a small hillock, at one of the birds. The feathers were not in bad condition, and later I found some of them invaluable for bartering with Arabs. Judging by the tracks, there appeared to be a number of these birds between the Niger and Lake Niangaye, although most of the ostrich hunting is done on the other side of the Niger and some hundred miles lower down. By questioning my native followers, indeed, I found that these ostriches do not seem to be hunted at all.

That day we did a long march, as I was anxious to get across the desert and camp by the water on the far side that night. The water was a swampy stream, called Tango-Maré, which was one of the tributaries of the River Bara-Issa. I camped by its shores, where the sand-flies and mosquitoes were worse than I had experienced for a very long time. My servant and the police orderly both got a severe attack of fever in consequence, and I passed a most uncomfortable night.

There was an encampment of wandering Tuaregs close by who made things look brighter by a very acceptable present of camel’s milk, accompanied by protestations of friendship. This gift and the message accompanying it seemed so unlike the usual custom of the Tuaregs, where Europeans were concerned, that I made inquiries on the subject. It transpired that the last visit they had had from white men was when the French troops had visited this particular tribe and punished them severely for some misdeed. They evidently had a wholesome respect for the European now, or they would hardly have taken the trouble to offer presents to a single individual! After leaving the stream where I had spent the night, we emerged on a country intersected by small lakes, swamps and marshy streams. I had sent on my baggage and servant early, staying myself behind to enjoy some duck shooting close to my camp of the previous night. The guide who was with me professed to know the route our loads had followed, but I hardly wonder he was at fault on several occasions.

Sometimes this network of waterways became practically one wide sheet of water, so intimately connected were the swamps and streams. On arriving at a place of this description, it became a matter of great difficulty to know where the water was fordable. The only plan was to try at a likely-looking spot, and go on until the water became too deep, when a new direction must be struck. It would have been dangerous to attempt to swim, owing to the thickly packed reeds which grew in profusion everywhere. Many times, after proceeding about half-way, and congratulating myself that we had found a passage, a hole or dense reeds prevented further progress, and we had to beat a retreat, endeavouring to find another ford. By the time we finally got to the other side of these huge morasses it was getting late, but fortunately the track was now dry and fairly well defined, so we were able to move at a good pace. I fully expected to hear, when joining the baggage, that half of it had been lost in the water, so it was cheering to be told that, beyond a little wetting, not much harm had been done. The guide with the baggage party appeared to have found a better crossing than we had done.

I had now reached a place from which I could get a navigable way to Kabara, as the port of Timbuctu is called. The name of this village was Sariamou, and it was on one of the main tributaries of the Bara-Issa.

After negotiating with the chief native trader of the place, I arranged for a canoe, with an awning of palm-thatch, to be ready for me the following day. I had a crew of five men, so that I should be able to travel fast. I estimated my distance from Kabara at seventy miles as the crow flies, so it was probably quite eighty by water, a distance I could not hope to cover in less than three days. Moreover, I could not arrange for the canoemen to accompany me more than one day, so that there were certain to be further vexatious delays in getting relief crews. In one respect I was lucky, however, that I should be able to keep the same canoe the whole way; besides, this canoe was a fairly comfortable one as they went, and should I have been obliged to change daily, I should have had to put up with very inferior craft.