On the way out I met with no game, but on my return I saw two or three impala antelopes, at which I could not get a shot, chiefly owing to the noise I unavoidably made in approaching them over loose pebbles and quartz blocks. I returned to camp unsuccessful in consequence.
We learnt from George that during our absence at Munithu one of the donkeys had fallen sick and died. When El Hakim asked where the carcase was, George told us that our Wakamba porters had eaten it. They did not ask for permission to do so, possibly because they feared the ridicule of the “M’sungu,” but the same night, when all was still in camp, they sneaked out one by one, and, cutting up the carcase, brought it into camp and cooked and devoured it during the night. It became a standing joke against them with the rest of the safari, who at once nicknamed them “Fisis” (hyenas) for the remainder of the trip. When any of the Swahili porters felt particularly jocular, they would sing out, “Nani amakula punda?” (Who ate the donkey?) which earnest inquiry would be immediately answered by a ringing shout from the rest of the Swahilis, “Wakamba fisi” (the Wakamba hyenas), followed by a shout of laughter, accompanied by cat-calls. The Wakamba themselves would smile a contented, cheerful smile, and think lovingly of the magnificent gorge they had enjoyed, and, I believe, rather pitied the Swahilis for their fastidious prejudices.
The morning after our arrival from Munithu, the Somalis returned from their sojourn in Chanjai, where they had been purchasing food. They intended to start from the Waso Nyiro on the following day, and, as we had expected, absolutely refused to entertain the idea of another expedition into Embe. I concluded a little “deal” with Ismail during the morning, exchanging twenty cartridges for a little coarse salt.
Just before noon I went out alone with the 20-bore shot-gun, with the intention of shooting guinea-fowl for the pot. I wore rubber shoes, and in jumping a stream, strained my instep badly. The pain was severe, but I tried to walk it off. I got into the thick forest between our camp and M’thara, but saw no birds. Noiselessly threading my way along a narrow game-track, while on the look-out for partridges, I suddenly saw a large brown mass looming through the openings of the foliage. Only small patches of it were now and again visible, and, as I had not the least idea what it was, I cautiously crept closer in order to get a better view. It was quite stationary, and at first I thought it was a large hut, though what it was doing there I could not imagine. I cautiously approached to within ten yards, and then halted and watched. Suddenly the mass moved, a low rumbling noise was heard, and then an enormous head swung into my field of vision, flanked by vast outspread ears and a pair of magnificent tusks. There I stood gazing straight into the face of the largest bull elephant I had ever seen, with only a 20-bore shot-gun and No. 6 shot with me! After a few seconds’ suspense I regained the use of my scattered faculties, and it immediately occurred to me that this particular part of the forest was not a good place for guinea-fowl, and at once decided to look somewhere else. I am modest by nature, and deprecate ostentation; therefore I made as little noise as possible on my backward journey—at least till I was quite a quarter of a mile from the elephant. I did not wish to alarm him. I took the bearings of the place, and limped back to camp for a rifle. El Hakim immediately went back with me, but we could not find the elephant. He had evidently winded me on my first visit, and retreated into the deeper recesses of the thorn forest.
On my return to Cairo, I happened to mention this encounter with the elephant to an American friend of mine. He listened with a twinkle in his eye, and remarked, “Why, if that isn’t strange! Do you know, ’most the same thing happened to me last Fall; when I was huntin’ in the Rockies with my brother. We had gone out pretty early one morning to try and shoot a few by-ids. After a smart tramp along the river-bank, through a lot of bushes, we were pulled up with a jerk, as, on coming round a tree, we spotted an old grizzly b’ar reared up on his hind legs, feedin’ on something in the bushes. As we were only loaded for by-ids, we drew back and watched him. Pretty soon ‘old grizzly’ turned around and looked us straight in the face. My brother thought it must be nearly breakfast-time, so we started for our camp on the run! As we dodged among the bush we could hear the pit-pat of the grizzly’s feet in our rear, and I tell you we ran good and hard. Presently the sound of pursuing footsteps grew fainter and fainter, and, taking a quick look round, durned if ‘old grizzly’ wasn’t runnin’ hard’s he could the other way! What?”
FOOTNOTES:
[6] The sap of this wood possesses certain stimulating qualities, and is extensively chewed by the natives of North Kenia. I tried it afterwards, and found it of a somewhat peppery flavour. Its effect upon me was rather nauseating, and it afterwards gave me a slight headache.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE START FOR THE WASO NYIRO.
Some of El Hakim’s experiences with elephants—I am made a blood-brother of Koromo’s—Departure from M’thara—A toilsome march—A buffalo-hunt—The buffalo camp—Account of Dr. Kolb’s death—An unsuccessful lion hunt—Apprehension and punishment of a deserter.
Early the next day the Somalis left for the Waso Nyiro. Soon after their departure we were aroused by a sound of altercation in our camp. On sending to inquire the cause, we found that four of the Somalis had returned, and were busily searching the tents of our men for deserters from their safari. Summoning them, we asked by what right they entered our camp and searched it without even asking permission. They were so impertinent that I lost my temper, and abused them soundly, and ended up by kicking them out of the camp. The looks they bestowed on me, an Infidel, who had dared to raise his foot against a follower of Mahomet, boded ill for my personal safety, if it should ever chance that opportunity favoured them.