Everything else was forgotten in the novel method of riding.
"Those we meet are, Jack. But you must remember that we are a special party, and that most of these men, who are big men themselves, consider it an honor to assist the doctor, here. That chap Harrington, for instance, just got in from two years up-country. He had charge of some three hundred square miles of absolutely savage country, and with a dozen Somalis kept order and law enforced. Andrus is another real man, and real men are above smallness."
As the train pulled out everything else was forgotten in the novel method of riding. The boys already knew that on each side of the railroad was a great game reserve, but on the first day's trip they saw nothing save one or two antelope and jackals. Birds were plentiful, however, and the rolling country was constantly presenting a change of scene before them.
The neat railroad stations were always surrounded with curious crowds of natives, some half dressed. As a rule the station agents and officials were Indians in the government service. Both Charlie and Jack kept their pocket cameras busy.
Toward evening they retired into their special carriage and wrote their last letters home, which would be mailed at Nakuro. But with the morning they were in the game country, and took advantage of the first stop to resume their seats in front. Now everything was changed. At one moment they would pass a group of giraffe, running in their ungainly fashion to one side; hartebeests, impalla and other varieties of antelope were everywhere, gazing in fearless fashion at the train. Herds of zebra came into sight, while through the trees scampered monkeys in endless variety.
"They know they're safe, all right," chuckled Charlie, as a herd of beautiful little gazelles stopped a dozen yards away to stare in mild wonder. "Funny how animals get to know where they're protected."
"It's the same in the Yellowstone," said von Hofe. "Within the limits they are almost tame, but across the line—pouf! and they are gone."
The wonderful journey, like no other in the world, was ended at last, however, and they puffed past Lake Nakuro to the village station. Here their trip was ended, their baggage was rolled off, and they were taken in charge by a young subaltern, Lieutenant Smithers, together with the Boer merchant, Piet Andrus. The latter offered them the hospitality of his trading store, which they gratefully accepted.
"Now to business," said the General that night after dinner. "Lieutenant, what would be your advice as to porters? I'd like to get off in the morning, if possible."
"The usual way," laughed Smithers, "is to take Swahilis, but you seem to be an unusual party. Since you are going to take wagons from here, I would suggest that you load everything into the wagons and trek north to Jan Botha's ranch. There you can pick up a score or two of Masai. They are an offshoot of the old Zulu stock—brave as lions, faithful enough, and able to provide for themselves. This safari business is largely bally rot, to my mind."