During the first night the sleep of the camp was disturbed by the distant roaring of lions, and Mr. Halliday took turns with John to watch. They had learnt from Mr. Gillespie that the lion stalks his prey in absolute silence, so that they did not fear an actual visitation while the roars continued; and though the sounds came nearer towards the morning, the dread beasts made no attempt to break in. Examining the ground on the following day, Mr. Halliday found pug marks about half-a-mile from the enclosure, and a little further away the scanty remains of a zebra. The proximity of lions was somewhat perturbing. Sometimes, as Mr. Halliday had learnt, the mere presence of man was enough to drive them away; but if they had once tasted human flesh they showed extraordinary audacity and cunning in obtaining further victims. As a precaution, he caused an inner boma to be erected around the tents and the grass huts of the men, so that if lions should break into the outer enclosure they would find another barrier between them and human prey.
During the daytime the building of the bungalow and the cattle-sheds proceeded apace. There was plenty of wood in the neighbourhood, and the people of the village beyond the river assisted in cutting and transporting the timber in exchange for a small quantity of cloth, beads, or wire. No work could be got out of the porters, except a few of the Wakamba, who began to prepare the ground around the bungalow for cultivation. Mr. Halliday would willingly have seen the backs of the whole company, but Juma declared that they must rest a few days after their long march before returning to Nairobi; and having no means of expelling them Mr. Halliday must needs submit, though he hoped their stay would be short. Apart from other reasons why their presence was undesirable, they consumed a prodigious amount of food, which had to be purchased from the chief; and while the Wakamba were satisfied with grain and fruits, the Swahili demanded meat, which meant that either some of the cattle must be killed, or the Hallidays must go hunting for their unwelcome guests.
One day Wasama, the Masai herdsman, reported that a number of the sheep had strayed. Not willing to lose them, Mr. Halliday and John set off with Wasama and two or three of the Wakamba to find them, taking their rifles in the hope of bringing down some game for the men. They tracked the wanderers through the long grass to the west of the encampment, and found that the trail led them into the woods on the rising ground in that direction. There they lost the trail, and scattered, the Englishmen arranging to fire a shot as a signal to the others if either of them came upon the track of the missing animals.
John was making his way through the wood, bending close to the ground, when he suddenly came upon a small hut standing by itself in a little glade. It consisted of four upright logs, the interspaces filled with brushwood, and covered with a roof of twisted boughs. He halted, wondering whose dwelling it might be, and then, a movement among the undergrowth at the rear of the hut attracting his attention, he walked slowly towards the spot, holding his rifle in readiness to encounter danger. To his amazement he saw a quaint little figure emerge from the thicket. It was the form of an elderly man, not more than four feet high, dark brown in colour, with strangely bent shins, longish hair streaked with grey, and protruding jaws. He wore nothing but a loose cloak of undressed skin hung from the shoulders, and he carried a small bow. Still more to John's surprise, the little man came forward, and held out his hand with a frank gesture of friendliness, uttering a word or two in a low, quiet voice. John shook his hand, feeling a little confused in his inability to speak to the man; then, thinking that he might be able to assist in the search for the sheep, he fired off his rifle, upon which the man sprang back into his hut with every mark of terror.
The shot soon brought up the rest of the party, and on John explaining why he had fired, Wasama went to the entrance of the hut and shouted into the interior. After a little hesitation the owner came out, and a brief conversation ensued between the two men, at the close of which Wasama, who knew enough English to make himself understood, explained that the man was one of the Wanderobbo tribe and was living quite alone. This fact was rather surprising, for the African natives always live in communities, large or small. But after further speech with the hermit, Wasama said that he had no tribe or village, all his people having been killed a long while ago. He had since lived in this little hut, occupying himself, after the manner of his people, in collecting wild honey and hunting, selling the skins of the animals he killed to the neighbouring villagers.
Mr. Halliday asked whether the man had seen anything of his sheep, and the Wanderobbo at once offered to help in the search in return for a few beads. The party set off again, and, emerging from the wood at its southern extremity, the little man soon discovered the trail, and the wanderers were seen placidly grazing half-a-mile away. The Wanderobbo seemed much more delighted with the few beads given him than the value of the gift appeared to justify, and at parting shook hands warmly with the Englishmen, promising, when Wasama had told him of their settlement, to bring them some honey shortly. Wasama collected the sheep and began to herd them back towards the farm, Mr. Halliday and the others going a little farther in pursuance of his intention of shooting something for the larder. But an hour's search revealing no trace of game, he started to return. He had just overtaken Wasama, about a mile from camp, when he saw Said Mohammed hastening towards him at a run.
"I hope there's nothing wrong," he said, but as the Bengali drew nearer it was plain from his perturbed countenance that he bore bad news.
"Master and esteemed sir," he said, panting as he came up, "I regret to inform you that a calamity has transpired."
"What is it?" asked Mr. Halliday, as the cook, who was of substantial physique, paused to recover breath.
"Larceny, sir. Juma, that badmash, awful scoundrel, sir, has lifted, or shall I say pinched, four donkeys, a dozen rifles, and a regular heap of trade goods, and has decamped, bunked, sir, with the Swahilis, who knows where?"