An ivory trader in North Kenia

by A. Arkell-Hardwick

FOOTNOTES:

[16] The Bongo of the Bahr el Ghazal also bury their dead in the sitting position, covering the body with logs and branches instead of stones.

CHAPTER XVII.
ARRIVAL AT M’THARA.

In sight of Kenia once more—El Hakim and the lion—The “Green Camp” again—The baby water-buck—El Hakim shoots an elephant—The buried buffalo horns destroyed by hyænas—Bad news from M’thara—Plot to attack and massacre us hatched by Bei-Munithu—N’Dominuki’s fidelity—Baked elephant’s foot—Rain—Arrival at our old camp at M’thara.

On resuming the march up-river next morning, we found the road much better than on our journey down the opposite bank. It lay over firm gravelly ridges, littered with quartz débris dotted here and there with scattered thorn bushes. Now and again we crossed patches of mineral salts, some of which we boiled down in the endeavour to obtain some table salt, but the resulting compound tasted more like the nauseous mixtures administered by the family physician in our childhood’s happy days than anything, and was in consequence utterly useless for table purposes.

During the next few days we did not keep rigidly to the Waso Nyiro, but cut across many of the curves, occasionally camping miles away from the river, obtaining the necessary water by digging in the beds of the numerous sand rivers, when it was generally found not far below the surface, in small quantities it is true, but sufficient for our needs if we dispensed with washing. This was the easier as we were quite without soap, and a wash without soap is an unsatisfactory performance anyhow.

Once or twice we caught a glimpse of Kenia far away to the southward. It seemed like an old friend, and its appearance was always greeted with a cheer from the men, followed by a spasmodic burst of energy, for, resettling their loads on their shoulders, they would step out with renewed vigour, as if anxious to reach it at once, but after a few minutes their suddenly awakened enthusiasm would vanish, and they would relapse once more into the listless but steady gait of men wearied by continuous travel.

The appearance of Kenia at that distance was grand beyond the power of expression. The wonderful peak, crowned with patches of purest white snow, sparkled like an immense diamond in the brilliant sunshine, an effect further accentuated by the perfect background afforded by the deep clear blue of a cloudless sky. Even were I gifted with the pen of a poet or the brush of an artist, I should hesitate in the attempt to adequately depict that magnificent temple of nature, rearing its stately head heavenwards, and bearing a silent and convincing testimony to the glory of the Creator.

On October 3rd we crossed the Waso Nyiro once more. Game was still scarce, an occasional water-buck or rhinoceros forming our only sustenance. Even that limited selection failed us at times, and we were compelled to kill some of our cattle for meat. We yearned for vegetable food, as only those who have lived for the best part of two months exclusively on meat, without salt, can yearn. The monotony of boiled meat, roast meat, fried meat, and boiled meat again, must be experienced to be fully understood.

Two days after crossing the river we passed our old “Swamp Camp,” where the midges so annoyed us. We made a “telekesa” march on that day, however, and our second march took us beyond the swamp. We camped at sundown on a spot very close to the river—only a few yards from the water’s edge, in fact. We disturbed a pack of wild dogs in so doing, and they dashed off with the speed of greyhounds. George banged at them and wounded one, but it got away, though it was very probably devoured by the rest of the pack soon afterwards. They were jet black in colour, with long bushy tails tipped with white. They appeared to be very well-formed, speedy animals, and in the pink of condition.

As usual we built a boma for the sheep, and George and I had our tent pitched, but El Hakim preferred to sleep in the open, so his bed was placed a yard or so away from our tent. After we had eaten we retired to rest, posting a sentry a few yards away. At about 2 a.m. George and I were aroused from sleep, and considerably startled, by a yell from El Hakim, followed by a rushing sound as the sheep broke down their boma and stampeded, amid the excited shouts of the awakened men. Rushing out of our tent, we saw El Hakim, rifle in hand, peering into the darkness on the left, the tails of his shirt, his only garment, fluttering in the breeze. It appeared that he was peacefully sleeping and doubtless dreaming of home and beauty, or maybe of the two boxes of provisions we had left at M’thara, when an agonized whisper from the sentry smote upon his ear. He awoke instantly, and opening his eyes ... gazed full into the face of a full-grown lion which was standing by the side of his bed critically examining him, probably from a gastronomical point of view. El Hakim, with a rapidity born of long experience, rolled out of bed on the opposite side and groped for his rifle, at the same time uttering the startled cry which had aroused the camp. When George and I appeared, the lion had already fled, and we found El Hakim bemoaning his luck at not getting a shot, instead of being profoundly grateful that the lion had not taken him with him when he departed.

It took the men a couple of hours to get the startled sheep together again. On examining the lion’s spoor, we found that it had walked right through the camp, having apparently carefully threaded its way among the recumbent bodies of the sleeping porters.

On the next march the sheep showed signs of fatigue, so we camped early. We sent a couple of men on to M’thara to report on the attitude of the natives, and also to come back and meet us with the two provision boxes. On the following day we once more negotiated the “cinder-heap,” and just before sundown reached the “Green Camp,” after a rather forced march. Ramathani surprised a baby water-buck asleep in the grass, and after a smart chase ran it down and captured it. He proudly brought it to El Hakim, who determined to make an effort to rear it. He therefore extemporized a feeding-bottle from a tumbler and a piece of rubber tubing from his surgical case, while the ink-filler of his fountain pen provided both a piece of glass tube and a teat. The stupid little beast did not appreciate his well-meant efforts, however, and absolutely refused to suck. It was eventually provided with a meal by the combined efforts of the three of us. I held it still, George forced its mouth open, while El Hakim poured the milk drop by drop down its throat with a teaspoon, though during the operation it did not seem at all grateful for the care so lavishly bestowed upon it.

During the afternoon George shot a rhinoceros. I also wished to shoot another rhino or two, and determined to stay in the “Green Camp” for another day for that purpose, while El Hakim and George went on with the bulk of the safari and the animals. By making a forced march I could overtake them on the second day at our old “Buffalo Camp.” In addition, I was anxious to shoot a few grantei, and so lay in a stock of meat for the use of the men until we were able to purchase food in M’thara.

Accordingly, the following morning El Hakim and George went on, while I sallied out on sport intent. Crossing the little stream which flowed round two sides of the camp, I made my way towards the Waso Nyiro. Five hundred yards away from camp I reached the path usually taken by the game when going down to drink at the river. The grantei, as I knew from previous observation, usually came down at ten o’clock in the morning; so at a quarter to ten I concealed myself behind the trunk of a thorn tree, stretching myself out at full length upon the ground, a most uncomfortable position, as the ground was strewn with little knobs of rock firmly embedded in the soil. When I did venture to remove some loose pieces that inconvenienced my elbows and knees, I disturbed a few colonies of tiny ants, which, although they did not bite, crawled all over me in a most uncomfortable manner. I had lain there about half an hour, when my patience was rewarded by the sight of the advance guard of the grantei army advancing steadily in my direction. They were led by a noble-looking buck, who displayed a magnificent pair of horns. He was a little suspicious, and hesitated whether to come on or not. I was very carefully concealed, and as I kept perfectly still, he finally conquered his distrust, and once more advanced, followed by the remainder of the herd. Waiting my opportunity, I banged at him at forty yards, and dropped him with a dum-dum bullet through the heart. The others ran this way and that, not knowing from which quarter the danger had come, as I still kept carefully out of sight. The consequence was that I secured two others, as handsome as the first, with the expenditure of only two more cartridges. As I now had enough meat, I stayed my hand, and did no further execution, though, had I been so disposed, I might have secured at least a dozen from the herd before they finally recovered from their confusion and took to flight.

MR. G. H. WEST (“GEORGE”).

RHINOCEROS SHOT BY GEORGE. (See page [293].)

Of course, as I particularly wished to secure a couple of rhinoceros, there were none to be seen, though at the “Green Camp” they were usually as plentiful as could be desired. After a fruitless search, I returned to camp at midday, and then despatched half a dozen men in as many directions to look for one. The afternoon passed without result, but just as the declining sun approached the horizon two of the Wanyamwezi came in and reported a rhinoceros feeding about a mile away. Taking Barri with me, I started off in pursuit. In a quarter of an hour we got the beast’s spoor, and followed it till it led us into a belt of trees and out the other side into an open space in the bush. In the centre of this open space was a small eminence, and on the top of the eminence stood our rhino, who had evidently heard or scented us, and now stood snorting and stamping in preparation for the opening of hostilities. Taking the Martini from Barri, I worked round to one side of my quarry and took up a position in the open within forty yards. A couple of seconds later a bullet caught her—it was a female—fairly in the shoulder, but a little too far forward. Round she came and charged me, but another shot in the face caused her to change her mind. As she swerved a third bullet took her in the ribs, and she set off at a gallop, squealing like a gigantic pig. She ran for a matter of a couple of hundred yards, and then stood quite still in an attitude of profound thought; finally, she laid down as if she had resolved to sleep, as the result of her cogitation, and when I got up to her she was dead. The horns were fairly long, but badly scratched and chipped, she being evidently a very old beast. Her body was covered with the scars of numerous conflicts with others of her kind. After a struggle I succeeded in hacking off the horns with my hunting-knife, El Hakim having taken our only remaining axe away with him in the morning.

When I got back to camp, I found five men who had been sent back by El Hakim to carry any meat I might have shot. They told me that El Hakim had shot a solitary elephant they had met on the road in the morning. The next morning I started early, and, after a stiff march, reached the place at which the others had camped on the previous evening. The remains of their fires were still hot. I passed the body of the elephant on the way. It appeared to be a young bull, and the hyænas and vultures between them were making short work of the carcase. After a couple of hours’ halt I resumed the march, and after another hard tramp lasting three hours I reached the “Buffalo Camp,” tired out. George had had a slice of luck, as he had secured a very fine impalla (Æpyceros melampus) on the road. The horns were slightly over twenty-eight inches, which is, I believe, as good as it is possible to obtain.

A great disappointment awaited us here. On going to the ant-hill in which I had buried the buffalo horns, we found that, in spite of the ants, the hyænas had disinterred and utterly destroyed them. My large pair were gone, and also the other two pairs buried with them, there being nothing left beyond a few splinters of bone. The baby water-buck died in the evening, having steadfastly refused to feed since its capture, and resisting to the utmost of its power our well-meant efforts to help it.

During the next day’s march we met the men whom we had sent to M’thara four days before. To our immense satisfaction, they bore the two boxes of provisions which had occupied our thoughts for so many weary days. They were about to tell us something concerning hostile natives at M’thara, but we had motioned them away, desiring that nothing, especially bad news, should interfere with our first civilized meal, and so detract from our enjoyment. Ordering a halt, we got to work with a screw-driver while the tents were being erected. Ramathani exerted himself, and in an incredibly short time a steaming pot of oatmeal porridge awaited our attention. After two months of meat, that oatmeal tasted as never oatmeal tasted before. When it was finished, Ramathani brought us some broiled zebra collops, and with mustard, pepper, and a bottle of Worcester sauce, they made a dish fit for a monarch. There were also biscuits, jam, and a couple of tins of butter, and as a wind up, we opened a pound tin of mincemeat, and, passing the tin round, ate it with a spoon. To crown our enjoyment, a box of cigars and a bottle of vermouth were discovered, and as we inhaled the first smoke for weeks we would not have changed places with anybody.

At the conclusion of the banquet we felt sufficiently fortified to hear the news brought by our men from M’thara. They were therefore summoned and cross-questioned for over an hour. The result of the examination was even worse than we had anticipated, and sufficed to change our thoughts from the optimistic attitude they had assumed to one of most anxious and gloomy foreboding. Summed up, the situation was this. We required a large quantity of food for our journey round North and West Kenia, which is uninhabited. There was, we discovered, a famine in M’thara, as, unfortunately, the bean-crop had utterly failed for want of rain. There was, on the other hand, plenty of food in Munithu and Zura, as the famine did not extend to those districts. In the ordinary course of events we should have bought food there, but to our amazement and indignation we heard that during our absence on the Waso Nyiro both Dirito and Bei-Munithu had turned traitors, and were now bitterly hostile to us, absolutely refusing to supply us with food. Their change of front had the effect of bringing together all the other chiefs in North-East Kenia, with the single exception of N’Dominuki, and they had, in solemn conclave assembled, formed an offensive and defensive alliance against us. The reasons for this attitude were not hard to find. Our reverse in Embe, and Jamah Mahomet’s death, followed by the death of Sadi ben Heri and his companions and the capture of their guns in N’Dakura, and, lastly, the terrible massacre of the bulk of Ismail’s men on the road to Dhaicho, had occasioned a great loss of prestige, and prepared the native mind for what was to follow. During the deliberations, and while matters hung in the balance, one of our men who had deserted on the Waso Nyiro turned up, and when taxed by Bei-Munithu with being a deserter he denied it, and declared that the Wasungu were all dead, having been killed in a fight with the Burkeneji, and only a few porters had got away with their guns and some of the trade goods, and were now returning to M’thara. Some colour was lent to his story by the reappearance in Embe of the three camels belonging to El Hakim, whither they had wandered after straying from us nearly six weeks before. This was considered by Bei-Munithu to be a capital opportunity to annex the numerous loads deposited in N’Dominuki’s charge. That true friend, however, refused to entertain the suggestion, saying that he did not believe the Wasungu were dead, in spite of the deserter’s story, and the circumstantial evidence of the camels. He stated, furthermore, that he did not intend to give them up, even if the Wasungu were dead, as other white men would soon come into the country and demand an account of the loads in his charge. Bei-Munithu then formed a coalition of all the petty chiefs of North-East Kenia, for the purpose of waylaying and massacring any safaris who should in the future endeavour to enter the country, a plan to which N’Dominuki steadfastly refused to lend his aid.

From an agreement to attack our supposed surviving porters, to another agreement to attack the Wasungu themselves, should they be alive, was but a step, and an easy step at that. Bei-Munithu was evidently the moving spirit of the combination. He was reported to have said that the Wasungu’s bullets did not hurt, and as he had formerly been the friend of the Wasungu, he was supposed to speak with some authority on the subject. “Even if the Wasungu are not dead,” said this wily old reprobate, “we can just as easily take their goods when they do return. If they are dead, so much the better; and if they are not, they soon will be,” he continued; and in that case the question of the annexation of our goods would have been speedily solved. It seemed that this course was eventually decided upon by the A’kikuyu. Without a doubt things all round looked uncommonly gloomy, the only bright spot in the whole murky aspect being N’Dominuki’s unswerving fidelity. The situation required great firmness and tact in handling, as we wished to get out without further fighting, the Snider ammunition being almost exhausted. On consideration, we determined that if we were compelled to fight, we would make a good fight of it, and punish the enemy as heavily as we knew how, otherwise the next unfortunate safari coming into the district would stand a very poor chance.

An incident in connection with the strayed camels occurred at M’thara, which, while it amused us at the time, had its serious side also. When we left M’thara for the Waso Nyiro, we had left an M’Kamba porter, who had injured his leg and was unable to walk, with N’Dominuki. He retained his gun and half a dozen cartridges for protection. When the camels strayed into Embe, some of the inhabitants brought them down to N’Dominuki and offered them for sale. He recognized them as ours, and refused to have anything to do with them. Our gallant M’Kamba, however, demanded that they should be given up to him, as the Wasungu’s representative, which proposal the Wa’Embe treated with scorn. The M’Kamba thereupon brought out his rifle and fired into them, shooting one man through the thigh. The serious side of the question now obtruded itself, inasmuch as it was not an Embe man whom he had so rashly wounded, but a native of M’thara who happened to be standing near; and old N’Dominuki had to pay one of our cows and two of our sheep in order to square the injured man and his indignant friends and relatives!

As we had heard and also read much about the excellence of baked elephant’s foot, we thought we would give it a trial. To that end El Hakim had preserved one of the feet of the elephant he had shot two days previously. To the best of our knowledge, the proper way to cook this alleged delicacy was to dig a hole in the earth and build a fire in it. When there was a sufficient quantity of hot ashes, the foot was placed in the hole among them, covered up with earth, and left for a few hours. Ramathani was therefore instructed to dig a hole and build a fire, which he accordingly did, and when the ashes were ready the foot was placed inside. It was disinterred in time for supper, after it had been cooking some eight hours, but to our intense disgust and disappointment it was quite uneatable. It was of the most indiarubber-like consistency, and after blunting my hunting-knife on the knuckle-bones in our efforts to carve it, we gave it up as a bad job. I tried to cut it afterwards with an axe, but could make no impression on it worth mentioning, as the axe bounced off. We concluded that it was not sufficiently cooked, and determined that there should be no such mistake in our next attempt—always supposing that we caught another elephant.

Some smart showers of rain made their appearance during the evening, which did not tend to improve the condition of the sheep. They had experienced no rain for three years, and we were very doubtful of the effect of the wet and the attendant cold on their constitutions.

Our next march, we calculated, would take us right on to our old camp at M’thara. On the following morning, after two and a half hours’ tramp, we halted for breakfast. As we were preparing for another move a terrific thunderstorm came on, and in a very short space of time drenched everybody and everything. We took shelter under the trees from the blinding torrents of rain, hoping that it would soon cease. It did nothing of the kind, however, and after we had endured it for over an hour we decided to put up the tents and camp for the remainder of the day. Getting the tents erected was a terrible task. They were soaking wet and heavy as lead, and the violent gale which accompanied the storm caused them to thrash and flap about in a most aggravating way. The rain poured harder than ever, and soon converted the surface of the ground into a filthy bog. The water dribbled down the backs of our necks and up the sleeves of our coats in a manner we found most exasperating. After an hour’s hard work we got both tents up and trenches dug round them; and then, of course, the rain ceased, the wind dropped, and the sun appeared from behind the clouds and shone brilliantly. It was, however, too late to think of making another start, so we stopped where we were. It rained hard again during the night, and several of the sheep died. At daylight we made another attempt to reach our old M’thara camp, and after an hour’s tramp through the thorn forest we had the satisfaction of once more emerging upon our old camping-ground. It was just as windy, and rather more swampy than before, but it was surrounded by masses of restful green vegetation most grateful to the senses after the blinding deserts and arid wastes of the Waso Nyiro.

CHAPTER XVIII.
AN ELEPHANT HUNT AND AN ATTACK ON MUNITHU.

We shoot an elephant—Gordon Cumming on elephants—We send to Munithu to buy food—Song of Kinyala—Baked elephant’s foot again a failure—The true recipe—Rain—More rain—The man with the mutilated nose—The sheep die from exposure—Chiggers—The El’Konono—Bei-Munithu’s insolent message—A visit from the Wa’Chanjei—George and I march to attack Munithu.

On arriving at our M’thara camp we were agreeably surprised to find recent elephant spoor all over the place. Some of the tracks were very large—possibly those of the old bull I had encountered in the thorn forest. Jumbi, with some of the men, was at once despatched to N’Dominuki to inform him of our arrival, and to bring back to camp the loads of equipment and the stores and cattle left in his charge.

About two o’clock in the afternoon a native came into camp with the news that a couple of elephants were feeding in the thick bush only a few hundred yards from our camp. Snatching up our rifles, we hurried out in pursuit. El Hakim carried his ·577 Express, George the 8-bore, and I my ·303. Advancing cautiously through the jungle, we came up with the animals about 200 yards from camp. It was a very bad place in which to shoot elephants, as the bush was so thick and dense as to be almost impenetrable, and it also concealed our quarry from view. Now and again among the leaves we caught sight of a patch of brown hide or the tip of an ear, but nothing showed up well enough to justify a shot, though we were well within twenty yards of our quarry.

After a long and breathless wait we held a whispered consultation, and came to the conclusion that we might perhaps have a better chance from the opposite side. Leaving the native who had warned us of their presence safely ensconced in the fork of a thorn tree to watch the elephants, we, accompanied by Ramathani, succeeded in circumnavigating them, being lucky enough to reach the other side without being winded. There we found a small ant-hill, from the top of which we were able to see over the undergrowth. The elephants were then in plain sight about 150 yards distant. They were both bulls, one of them a magnificent old fellow with a very large pair of tusks. The other was a younger animal, with rather smaller ivories. The old bull was not the one I saw in the thorn forest before, as I had at first supposed, his tusks being of a different shape, being longer, but thinner, and not so discoloured. In spite of El Hakim’s knowledge of woodcraft, we were unable to get any nearer to them, the bush being too thick and solid. We waited, therefore, for some time, hoping they would come closer, as they were now between us and the camp, and what little breeze was stirring was blowing directly from the camp on to them; and we calculated that on scenting it they would come down wind, and so nearer to the spot where we lay concealed. However, they did not seem to mind the proximity of the camp, although, even from where we were, we could distinctly hear the men talking.

For two hours by the watch we waited, not daring to move, or venturing to speak above a whisper. At last we sent Ramathani by a circuitous route back to camp to call out the men, with instructions that they were to surround the elephants on every side except that on which we had taken up our position, and, by making slight noises in the bush, endeavour to drive them gently down in our direction. These instructions the men carried out; but to our great alarm the elephants showed a disposition to break through the line of beaters on the camp side. Fearing that we should lose them altogether, El Hakim, contrary to his usual practice, took a shot at the big bull at a little over a hundred yards. Bang! went the ·577, and a steel-tipped bullet crashed its way into the elephant’s shoulder. Turning instantly, he charged in our direction, followed by his companion; but when within forty yards the left barrel spoke, and they turned aside, and, smashing through the forest to our left, disappeared, followed by another shot from El Hakim, which caught the smaller elephant somewhere in the stern. We set off at top speed in their wake, but at first they outstripped us, though their tracks were plainly visible in the soft earth, and at intervals on the path we saw tiny flecks of blood. The stricken elephant was evidently bleeding internally.

At the end of an hour’s hard going, we could see by the freshness of the footprints that we were once more getting closer to them. It therefore behoved us to proceed with great caution, as an old bull elephant who has been wounded is apt to make himself unpleasant if it so happens that in the ardour of pursuit the hunter gets at all careless, and it is most disconcerting, on rounding a bush, to find the elephant’s head when one expected to see his tail. Suddenly, as we were creeping silently along, we heard a quick shrill scream of rage, apparently from the other side of some bushes twenty yards away. Thinking the wounded beast was about to charge, we hopped aside out of the path and behind the adjacent bushes with a celerity only to be acquired under similar circumstances. It was, however, a false alarm, as, on peering round the bushes, we saw both elephants standing in the jungle about a hundred yards distant, looking at us.

As soon as we made a move they turned and plunged once more into the bush, with us in hot pursuit. They, however, crossed a small stream that flowed through the bush a few hundred yards further on, and disappeared. When we reached the stream we found it to be so swollen by the previous few days’ rain as to be unfordable. We therefore returned to camp and despatched Barri and two others to follow the elephants, and to send word back to camp when they stopped once more.

On our return we found N’Dominuki in camp. He greeted us with every sign of pleasure, and we were just as pleased to see him, as his conduct during our absence was of the very highest order, and we regarded him as a very real friend. We had a long talk with him, and he confirmed the unpleasant news we had heard about the scarcity of food in M’thara and the hostile attitude of Bei-Munithu.

Just before dusk a report from Barri came to hand to the effect that the two elephants, after working round in a circle, were now not far from camp. Once more we set out, and after half an hour’s walk we reached the place where they were reported to be resting. Creeping stealthily up, we found that the big bull had succumbed to his injuries, and lay stretched out on his side quite dead. The other elephant, very much on the alert, was standing a little way off in the bush, and George and I immediately set out to try and bag him. He was, however, much too wary, and aided by the gathering darkness succeeded in eluding us in the thick bush, so we returned to camp in the hope that he would return during the night to his dead companion.

Early next morning, therefore, George and I set out in search of the other elephant, but he was nowhere to be seen, having evidently cleared out of the district for good during the night. After breakfast we went to the spot where the dead elephant lay, in order to chop out the ivory. He was a magnificent beast. I measured him with the tape as accurately as possible, and the following are the measurements which I jotted down in my notebook at the time:—

The distance between two spears planted vertically in the ground, one in a line with the sole of the foot and the other against the shoulder as he lay, measured 10 feet 8 inches, which may be taken as his height. From the forehead to the root of the tail the tape marked 13 feet 3 inches. Round the girth he measured 18 feet 8 inches; while the circumference of each fore foot totalled up 4 feet 8 inches, though, on measuring the tracks, I found they were fully 5 feet in circumference, an increase due to the expansion of the foot under the enormous weight of the animal. The tusks weighed 75 lbs. and 65 lbs. respectively, the lighter tusk having had a piece about 18 inches in length broken off from the end.

On cutting him up we found the steel core of a ·577 bullet in his chest, which might, from its appearance, have been there for years. It was of precisely the same pattern as those used by El Hakim, and as Mr. Neumann, the only man who had shot elephants at M’thara before, did not, so far as I know, use steel core bullets we came to the conclusion that it was a bullet which had been fired some two years previously by El Hakim at the same elephant, which had got away after being wounded. El Hakim said he had lost one or two elephants in this bush about that time, after wounding them.

The bush round North Kenia is very bad for elephant-shooting. It is terribly thick and leafy, and the elephants themselves very wild. Neumann, after a fortnight’s unsuccessful hunting in this place, became altogether disheartened, and, after a thorough trial of the district, came to the conclusion that he was wasting his time and strength, and gave up the task as hopeless. I was much interested in reading in Mark Twain’s “More Tramps Abroad” an extract from Gordon Cumming’s account of his experiences with an elephant which he gives in that book. It is such a quaint account, and is in such contrast to the modern sporting methods and ideas, that I make no apology for inserting it here:—

“Having planted a bullet in the shoulder-bone of an elephant, and caused the agonized creature to lean for support against a tree, I proceeded to brew some coffee. Having refreshed myself, taking observations of the elephant’s spasms and writhings between the sips, I resolved to make experiments on vulnerable points, and approaching very near, I fired several bullets at different parts of its enormous skull. He only acknowledged the shots by a salaam-like movement of his trunk, with the point of which he gently touched the wounds with a striking and peculiar action. Surprised and shocked to find I was only prolonging the suffering of the noble beast, which bore its trials with such dignified composure, I resolved to finish the proceeding with all possible despatch, and accordingly opened fire on him from the left side. Aiming at the shoulder I fired six shots with the two-grooved rifle, which must have eventually proved mortal, after which I fired six shots at the same part with the Dutch six-pounder. Large tears now trickled down from his eyes, which he slowly shut and opened, his colossal frame quivered convulsively, and falling on his side he expired.”

The next day the bulk of the men were still busily engaged in cutting up the carcase of the elephant, slicing the meat into strips, which they dried in the sun or in the smoke of their fires. As we were badly in need of grain food, we decided to send a party of men to Munithu and Zura to try to buy food, and also to bring back the few remaining loads of trade goods still in Bei-Munithu’s possession. Our purpose, as much as anything, was to test the temper of the natives there, and to see whether Bei-Munithu, now that he had heard of our safe arrival, was still determined to put his treacherous plans into execution.

In the mean time the men were busy gorging the elephant meat. A little M’kamba boy named M’waniki composed a song, which was sung with great success by a lady named Kinyala, who, with many others, had on the previous day joined their fortunes to those of our porters, in many cases deserting their husbands and homes in M’thara that they might follow the safari to Nairobi, which, to these poor creatures, was a vast and distant city of a splendour beyond their wildest dreams. Jumbi had strict orders not to allow any women in camp, but in spite of our frequent “drives” some of them managed to conceal themselves and escaped the general clearance. Kinyala attached herself to the modest and respectable Ramathani, and as she possessed some personal charms—to the mind of a native—that individual made no very strenuous objections. Well, Kinyala sang the song I have already spoken of, and it “caught on” tremendously; and, as a consequence, it was dinned into our ears day and night. It ran thus:—

Song of Kinyala.

(Solo)	“Wasungu kwenda wapi?
(Omnes)	Kwenda kwa Rendili.
(Solo)	Kwani kwenda kwa Rendili?
(Omnes)	Kwa sababu ya n’gamia.
	Wasungu wa’ntaka n’gamia;
	Wasungu wa’ntaka kondo ya mafuta;
	Huko kwa Rendili n’yama tele-tele.”

Translation.

(Solo)	“Where are the white men going?
(Omnes)	They are going to the place of the Rendili.
(Solo)	Why do they go to the place of the Rendili?
(Omnes)	Because of the camels.
	The white men want camels;
	The white men want fat-tailed sheep;
	There in the place of the Rendili is very much meat.”

The above is a specimen, with a somewhat free translation, of the half song, half recitative, so dear to the native heart. It is generally impromptu, and contains at times a certain dry humour and caustic comment on current events that is quite unexpected.

Thinking that this was a good opportunity of making another trial of baked elephant’s foot, I caused a large hole to be dug in the centre of the camp, and a party of men were sent into the forest to gather sufficient fuel. When the fuel arrived, an immense fire was kindled in the hole. All day long it burnt, and in the evening we were rewarded by the sight of a glowing pit filled to the brim with red-hot ashes. With much trouble (the foot weighed nearly forty pounds, and the furnace was very hot) we placed the bulky tit-bit in the ashes, and then, building a large bonfire over it, we considered that we had done our part of the business, and hopefully awaited developments.

Several times during the ensuing twenty-four hours El Hakim or I carefully poked the fire with an iron bar in the endeavour to ascertain whether the foot was cooking properly. We were absolutely certain that, if it were not burnt to a cinder, it would be at least sufficiently cooked, and it was in high hopes that we should at last partake of the reputed dainty, that we disinterred it from the miniature crater on the following evening. Alas and alack! in spite of all our toil and trouble it was as indiarubber-like as its predecessor. Twenty-four hours in the fire had burnt the outside and reduced the foot somewhat in size, but the rest was as uncooked as if it had never been near the flame. This result, however, was entirely our own fault, as, on looking up the subject since, I find that we were entirely wrong in our method of cooking it. The true recipe, as given by Mr. Foa,[17] is as follows:—

“Take an elephant’s foot, preferably young and very fresh; remove the white flesh which covers the bone, and cut it into strips the thickness of your finger, reminding one of sticks of pâté de guimauve. Place the appetizing strips for two days in the sun to dry, and collect the pure fat which exudes from them in the form of clear oil. To make the dish known as mwendo wa nzou, take one of these strips, cut it into small pieces, put it into a saucepan containing a little water, place it on a gentle fire, and renew the water several times. When a jelly has formed, add to it the oil in which you have browned a few onions, a little thyme, etc., or an equivalent aromatic plant, one or two very strong chillies, and let it cook gently for twenty hours, still adding water when necessary. Serve hot, with manioc flour or grated biscuit separately.

“N.B.—This dish keeps several days, and only requires re-warming.”

So far, so good; but as our friend N’Dominuki did not keep a general store where we might have been able to purchase the few onions, thyme, and chillies, etc., required, it would not have helped us much even had we possessed this recipe at the time.

The weather now changed considerably for the worse, the fine, clear, sunny weather of the Waso Nyiro being succeeded by heavy rains and cold winds. These rains were nearly two months late, and the inhabitants of M’thara were half starving in consequence; but they came now with a vengeance, though they were too late to do any good to the bean crop. Day after day we endured a steady downpour, which killed off the sheep by twos and threes every night. Of the men whom we had sent to buy food in Munithu, half returned two days later. They reported that Bei-Munithu had refused to sell any food, though he had more than plenty, and he had also refused to give up the loads still in his possession. Furthermore, he had secretly planned to attack them during the night and put them to death. They had, however, received timely warning from a friendly native, and so escaped; some of them coming back to us, and the remainder going on to Zura to see how matters stood at that place.

A strange Swahili accompanied them. He had been one of Dr. Kolb’s porters, and had been left behind, sick, at Munithu. He asked permission to return to Nairobi with us, which we readily granted. He also confirmed the news of Bei-Munithu’s hostility, and his statements threw light on several little matters which had puzzled us. It now seemed more than probable that the whole of the G’nainu affair had been planned by that old rascal in conjunction with the Wa’gnainu, which would explain why those people were so completely prepared for us on the morning when we went into their country to demand our trade goods; and why they opened the attack without listening to what we had to say.

This Swahili was a peculiar-looking man, as at some time or other the end of his nose had been bitten off by a hyæna. The voracious brute had actually dashed up to where he was sleeping with other men round a fire, and, seizing him, had tried to drag him away. His companions awoke at his cries, and drove his assailant off with fire-brands. When the hyæna seized him, it had bitten his face and taken the end of his nose clean off. When rescued, he searched for and found the piece, and, sticking it on again, he secured it with a length of hair or fibre, which he passed over it and tied at the back of his head; however, the piece slipped and finally grew on to his face an inch to the left of its proper position, so that he had one nostril complete and in its right place, while the other grew apparently out of his cheek. He still kept the piece of fibre tied round it, and could not be induced to remove it, though the piece of nose was firmly united to his cheek. El Hakim offered to perform an operation in plastic surgery and replace it in its rightful position, but he steadfastly refused, and El Hakim did not press the point. This man turned out to be a very good drover, and rendered valuable service in that way on our march down country after leaving M’thara.

On the 18th October, after six days’ continuous downpour, the rain ceased for a couple of days. Thirty of the sheep had succumbed, and the others were very sick, as a large number of them were suffering from the effects of the unaccustomed exposure. As the men who had gone on to Zura had not returned, we sent Jumbi with several men to see what had become of them. We were very anxious to leave M’thara, but we could not venture round West Kenia without a supply of food in hand, as game might be scarce. The camp already commenced to smell very badly, as the rain had soddened the earth and converted it into a bog. The quantity of meat drying in the smoke of the fires was already six days old, and though it was relished by the men, we ourselves found the effluvia offensive.

During our stay large numbers of natives came into camp for medicine to cure the ulcers caused by “chiggers.” The chigger (Pulex penetrans) is a species of flea which is in the habit of selecting the sole of the foot or the flesh under the toe-nails as a place of residence. Once safely ensconced under the skin, the female chigger proceeds to lay large numbers of eggs, which are disposed in the form of a round bag, the size of a pea. The irritation produces a troublesome ulcer, amidst which the young larvæ appear. Some of the natives of M’thara had lost many of their toes through these pests. It was especially sad to see the little children with their feet horribly lacerated, who were brought into camp for treatment by their despairing mothers. Under El Hakim’s direction, I made a large quantity of ointment by mixing iodoform and powdered boric acid with hippo fat, and this was freely dispensed among the sufferers, their expressions of gratitude amply repaying us for any trouble we incurred in relieving them. I myself had been crippled for three weeks on one occasion by chiggers, and was therefore in a position to feel for the unfortunate wretches.

An “elkonono,” or native blacksmith, came into camp one day, and we got him to manufacture a few knives and ornaments for us from iron which we provided. He took up his quarters, together with a couple of his wives, in a shelter which we had built for the mules. His tools were very simple, consisting merely of a flat stone for an anvil, and a piece of round bar iron, 1½ inches in diameter and about 8 inches in length, slightly flattened at one end, which formed his hammer. He also possessed a very crude pair of iron pincers.

His forge, which was fed with charcoal, was formed by a hole in the ground, into which the air was forced from bellows through a short pipe of baked clay. The bellows consisted of a couple of goatskins with a clay nozzle at one end. The other end was open, the sides being sewn to two flat pieces of wood, to which small straps were attached. One of the blacksmith’s wives thrust her fingers through these straps, and, opening her hand and at the same time raising her arm, she filled the goatskin with air. The hand was then closed and the goatskin sharply compressed by a downward stroke of the forearm, and the air contained in it was driven out of the nozzle through the clay pipe into which it was inserted, and so into the glowing charcoal. She worked a bellows with each hand alternately, thus providing an almost continuous draught.

Our “elkonono” set to work and toiled away for three days “from rosy morn till dewy eve,” and at the end of that time had manufactured two knives and a couple of ornaments. We asked him if it was not rather slow work, and to our great disgust he remarked, “Yes, it is true I have not made much for you, but” (proudly) “I have made knives for all your children!”

On inquiry we found that whenever our backs were turned, our porters had gone to the “elkonono” either to have a knife made or repaired, and as a result he had done ten times more work for them than he had for us, though we were paying him and he was using our material. Our simple “elkonono,” however, professed ignorance, saying that he thought that in doing these little jobs for “our children” he was serving us; which might or might not have been the truth.

A deputation from the Wa’Chanjei came into camp on the 17th of October. They came ostensibly on a friendly visit, but really to see how the land lay. After they had spent an hour or two in our camp, they evidently came to the conclusion that we were quite able to take care of ourselves, and politely and silently withdrew.

On the 19th of October the rain ceased for a while, to our immense satisfaction. During the morning Jumbi returned from Munithu and Zura with the remainder of the men. He had seen Bei-Munithu and demanded that our loads should be given to him. He was met by an insolent refusal. In addition, Bei-Munithu sent an insulting and threatening message to the effect that “If the Wasungu themselves came to the door of his house with their guns, he would not give up the loads!”

Jumbi also reported that food was extremely plentiful in both Munithu and M’thara, but the inhabitants of those places, acting under instructions from their chiefs, point blank refused to sell us any.

ORNAMENTS WORN BY A’KIKUYU WOMEN.

1, 2, 3, 4.	Leather belts ornamented with beads and cowrie shells.
5, 6, 7, 8.	Girdles of iron chain and beadwork.
9, 10.	Collars of iron chain and beadwork.
11, 12, 13, 14.	Necklaces of twisted iron, brass and copper wire, with pendant chain.
15, 16.	Armlets of thick brass wire.

The situation was now serious, and after dinner that evening we held a consultation to decide what was to be done. Leaving M’thara without a supply of food was out of the question, and to stay in M’thara was to court disaster. I therefore proposed to El Hakim that I should proceed to Munithu on the morrow with an armed party, leaving him in charge of the camp, and make a demonstration in force at Munithu, and see if that would not bring old Bei Munithu to his senses, and George volunteered to accompany me. As both El Hakim and I considered that such a proceeding would not entail any serious risk, he acquiesced in my proposal. We therefore determined that El Hakim should stay in command of the camp with one or two men—who, with himself, would, he hoped, be sufficient to defend it should it be attacked in our absence—and that George and I, with all the men who could be spared, should go over and endeavour to convince Bei-Munithu and Co. that we were better as friends than enemies.

Accordingly at noon on the following day George and I started for Munithu. We had sixteen men armed with Sniders, but we were terribly short of ammunition, possessing not more than seven cartridges per man, a fact which made the undertaking rather more hazardous. Considered afterwards, in cold blood, it seems to me to have been foolish in the extreme to have attempted to penetrate into a hostile country, so thickly populated as Munithu, with so few men and so little ammunition; but at the same time there was no help for it. Luckily, both George and I had a fair number of cartridges. I, as usual, carried my ·303, but George, whose rifle had once or twice missed fire, did not see the fun of risking his life with a weapon which might fail him at a critical moment; so he carried my 20-bore shot-gun with a supply of ball cartridges. These ball cartridges contained 2½ drams of powder, which propelled a spherical leaden bullet about the size of an ordinary marble, and a double-barrelled gun using them was a very ugly weapon up to a couple of hundred yards.

We pushed on till sundown, and camped at a distance from Bei-Munithu’s village, and turned in early, as we needed all our energy for the morrow.