WHILE THE GAME IS BEING CUT UP, THE NATIVES OFTEN HAVE RECOURSE TO INNOCENT HORSEPLAY BY WAY OF VENTING THEIR HIGH SPIRITS.
Wonderful, indeed, is the beauty of those African moonlight nights. Their radiant splendour is a thing never to be forgotten. How taint and faded in comparison seem our moonlight nights at home!
A TRAPPED LEOPARD.
Through the camp, past the smouldering and flickering fires, the Askari sentry wanders noiselessly. He is a man well on in years—a tried man who has often been with me before. Years ago he vowed he would never again return to the wilderness with a “Safari,” yet every time I revisit Africa the spell of the wild has come over him anew, and he has been unable to resist.
He comes to me now and says, as he has had so often to say before: “Master, do you hear the lions yonder in the distance?” And he makes his way towards the great fire in the centre of the camp and throws some fresh logs upon it. Flames spring up, blazing and flickering in the moonlight.
THE BABOON AND THE LITTLE BLACK LADY.
C. G. Schillings, phot.