An ivory trader in North Kenia

by A. Arkell-Hardwick

We moved up the river a little further on the following morning, and, camping early, sent the majority of the men to cut up the giraffe. We found the meat horribly tough and tasteless, but we struggled with it somehow. Even the men did not take kindly to it. The marrow bones, which were very large, we first roasted over a fire, and then, breaking them with an iron bar, ate their rich marrows with a teaspoon. It was very well flavoured, and much appreciated.

On the opposite bank of the Waso Nyiro was a small village of mixed Rendili and Burkeneji, the elders of which paid us a visit during the course of the day. They brought us four sheep as a present, and in return we gave them the remainder of our stock of beads and some cloths, with which they were delighted. They left us in the evening, and as a special honour, and to secure them from the attacks of crocodiles while crossing the river, El Hakim lit a blue flare, and giving it to the awestruck chief, he and his followers departed. It was very amusing to see the way the chief held it. He was half afraid of it, but did not care to show as much before his followers, so he held it at arm’s length, shuddering with apprehension every time it dropped a few sparks.

On the morning of September 29th, it being the sixth day subsequent to Ismail’s accident, we considered our obligation to linger in the district at an end. Scarcely had we come to that decision when a messenger from Ismail brought word that the Somalis had finally decided to go north to Marsabit. On hearing this message, we sent our blessing to Ismail, which, I expect, got the messenger into trouble—that is, if he ventured to deliver it, which I doubt—and we started for M’thara in earnest. We passed the hill which had occasioned George and myself so much trouble on our journey down the river, passing between it and the river by a narrow path which wound round its southern scarp. We halted at a boma that we found near the river, which had been built by Ismail on his journey to the Rendili.

The men reported a hippo in a pool some way up the river, and we accordingly went forth to slay it. We found the pool at the lower end of the rapids, which extend from the foot of the Chanler Falls for nearly a mile below. We found the hippo there, and George banged at it with the 8-bore. It was the first time this weapon had been used during the trip, and George, being unfamiliar with the sighting, missed the brute’s brain, merely drilling a hole in its skull and stunning it. It never gave us another chance, so we had to leave the pool without our hippo.

On the way back to camp we sighted two giraffe on the other side of the river, which were coming down to the water’s edge to drink. I took a shot at 200 yards with the ·303 and wounded the foremost, which immediately dashed away, followed by its companion. Being unwilling to let it go, I jumped into the river, which, though the current was very swift, was at that point not more than four feet in depth. Followed by two or three of the men, I waded across and resumed the chase of the wounded giraffe. I found it a few hundred yards further on, and planked another solid bullet into it, which had the effect of once more starting it off at a gallop.

This went on for a mile or two, the giraffe stopping every now and then for a rest, and on receiving another shot, making off again. Finally it forced its way into a patch of thick bush interlaced with a large number of prize specimens of the terrible wait-a-bit thorn. I did not attempt to penetrate this bush in like manner, but went round it instead, seeking for a more favourable entrance. While doing so, I heard the familiar crash of a falling body, and being then satisfied that my quarry had at last succumbed, I attempted to retrace my footsteps.

In the excitement of the chase I had carelessly neglected to take any bearings, leaving that part of the business to the men who accompanied me when I dashed across the river. When I turned to speak to them, I found that not one of them was near. The long chase not being to their liking, they had turned and sneaked back long before. Two little A’kikuyu boys had alone remained, so I directed them to take me back to camp by the shortest route. They protested they did not know the way, however, so I was compelled to take the lead and to try to find it myself.

It was fast growing dusk, and as I hurried on I pictured to myself the discomforts attendant on a night passed in the fork of a tree. I was once lost in the bush for twenty-four hours while after sable antelope in Mashonaland, and I had no wish to repeat the experience. After an hour of climbing and scrambling, I once more reached the river, but alas! at a point far below our camp. The river at this place flowed through numerous narrow channels between great boulders of pink gneiss, and it seemed as if there would be a possibility of crossing by jumping from rock to rock, though it was rather a dangerous proceeding, the rocks being rendered as smooth and polished as glass by the constant action of the water. However, I stripped and attempted the crossing. When I say I stripped, I mean that I removed my boots and socks, as I had not much else on in the way of clothing; a thin cotton vest, and a coloured cloth worn petticoat-wise, completing as airy and cool a costume as one could wish for in that beautiful climate. I slipped and fell once or twice, though fortunately I sustained no injury, and half an hour later I reached camp, tired but happy, and dined sumptuously on a guinea-fowl.

At daylight the following morning we sent the men to cut up the giraffe; but they returned in an hour, saying that they were unable to find it. Judging from the way they complained of the other one I shot, I do not think they were over-anxious to do so.

Setting off once more on our march up the river, we camped soon after midday, and sent men out to search for game. Presently one man returned with the report that a solitary hippo was disporting itself in a rocky pool a little distance away. We adjourned to the spot, and on our arrival sat down to watch. In a moment or two a faint ripple disturbed the surface of the water, and under an overhanging rock on the opposite side of the pool appeared two red nostrils covered with coarse black hair. We held our breath and waited. In about twenty seconds they disappeared as suddenly and as silently as they had come into view. We waited for over an hour in the hope that the brute would expose its head and thus give us an opportunity for a decisive shot. But nothing occurred beyond the periodical appearance and disappearance of the nostrils on the water-line to indicate the presence of the huge body below. At length, as the head did not emerge, we held a whispered consultation, and El Hakim and I decided to cross the river in the hope of obtaining a shot from the opposite bank, leaving George on the look-out. We accordingly made our way down-stream to where the river, running over gravel banks, became shallower. Stripping to our shirts, we waded across breast-deep. Arrived on the other side, we cautiously made our way to a spot opposite George, and directly above the place where the hippo came to the surface to breathe. Half an hour passed while we stood still and silent as statues, with our soaked shirts flapping round our bare legs. Suddenly, unnoticed by George and myself, the hippo came to the surface a little further out in the pool. El Hakim, however, saw it instantly, and quick as thought sent a ·577 bullet through its head. He had not time to place the rifle to his shoulder, and in consequence his finger was torn by the heavy recoil. He succeeded, however, in his object, which was either to kill or momentarily stun the hippo. Presently the water in the pool became violently agitated, and soon the immense beast rolled over on the surface, and I immediately gave it its quietus with a bullet through its brain.