“Oh,” he replied, “anything from five to twenty yards!” and went on to explain that it was much safer to shoot big game at short range.
“Always stalk your beast carefully,” said he, “and get close enough to be certain of your shot; then hit him hard in the right place, and there you are!”
It certainly sounded very simple, and I must say that El Hakim puts his own precepts into practice with conspicuous success; but a beginner does not find it so very easy. The temptation to fire at say eighty or a hundred yards, is well-nigh irresistible. It seems so much safer, though in reality it is much more dangerous—a fact which is rather difficult of assimilation by the novice.
“Besides,” El Hakim would remark in conclusion, with the air of one propounding an unanswerable argument, “it is more sportsmanlike.”
Another advantage of the short-range shot is this: Suppose a herd of elephants is located. If the conditions of wind, etc., are favourable, one can, with ordinary care, get right up to them, near enough to pick out the finest pair of tusks, and drop their owner with a bullet through the brain. If a ·303 is used there is no smoke, while it makes a comparatively small report, which is most likely attributed by the rest of the herd to the effect, and not the cause, of their comrade’s fall. A second and even a third elephant can often be obtained under these circumstances, before the herd realizes what is happening and stampedes.
This rule of careful stalking till near enough to make the result of the shot certain holds good with all big game, though there are certain other factors to be considered, such as the angle to your line of sight at which the beast aimed at is standing, and also light, etc. One can go into any club or hotel billiard-room in those parts of Africa where big game is to be found, and listen to conversation on, say, lion-shooting. The chances are that nine out of ten men present have “had a shot at a lion;” but only a very small percentage have actually bagged their beast. In these days of small-bore, high-power rifles, a man can shoot at a stray lion at six hundred yards, and he may be lucky enough to wound it or even, perhaps, kill it; but surely that is not “playing the game.”
On the afternoon of the day after the Somalis left for the Waso Nyiro, N’Dominuki came into camp with a chief named “Karama,” who wished to make “muma,” or blood-brotherhood, with me, to which I consented. It was rather a long affair. They brought a sheep with them, which was killed, and the liver cut out and toasted. Karama and I then squatted on the ground facing each other, while our men on the one side, and Karama’s friends on the other, formed a circle round us. A spear and a rifle were then crossed over our heads, and N’Dominuki, as master of the ceremonies, then took a knife and sharpened it alternately on the spear-blade and the gun-barrel, reciting the oath of “muma” meanwhile. It was a long, rambling kind of oath, amounting in fact to an offensive and defensive alliance, with divers pains and penalties attached, which came into operation in the event of either or both the blood-brothers breaking the said oath. At the conclusion of N’Dominuki’s speech the assembled spectators shouted the words “Orioi muma” three times. Three incisions were then made in my chest, just deep enough to allow the blood to flow, and a similar operation was performed on Karama. N’Dominuki then ordered the toasted sheep’s liver to be brought, which, on its arrival, was cut into small pieces, and a piece handed to both Karama and me. A further recitation of the penalties of breaking the oath was made by N’Dominuki, and again the spectators shouted “Orioi muma.” Karama and I then dipped our pieces of liver in our own blood, and amid breathless silence exchanged pieces and devoured them. This was repeated three times to the accompaniment of renewed shouts from the spectators. The remainder of the liver was then handed round to the witnesses, who ate it, and the ceremony was concluded, it only remaining for me to make my new blood-brother a present.
The next morning our final preparations were completed, and N’Dominuki having come over early, we turned all the animals we were leaving behind over to him. He bade us adieu, with a wish that we might return safe and sound, and, what is more, he sincerely meant what he said.
After leaving our late camp we plunged once again into the thorn forest, which we soon crossed, emerging into the sparsely vegetated highland I have mentioned before as extending to the northward. The sun was very hot, and travelling slow and laborious, not so much from the nature of the ground, perhaps, as from the soft condition of the men after their long rest. The ground, nevertheless, made walking a wearisome task, as the loose pebbles and quartz blocks turned our ankles and bruised our shins.
