Out shooting the other day we saw a herd of zebras, and Ferrier has got a mad idea of catching some of the foals and taming them. We may try it if we come across them again, so don't be surprised if you see us riding to meet you on striped chargers. You, I expect, will be wearing striped trousers, light gloves, and a new silk topper.
The failed B.A. is a perpetual joy. His latest. Ferrier found a hair in his soup the other night. "Accept humble apologies, sir," says Said Mohammed, as he took it away. "In such circs. I can best cheer you up by reminding you of a verse of the little but divine Alexander Pope: 'And beauty draws us with a single hair.'" That may appeal to you, dad.
I hope your leg is all right, and you're enjoying yourself. I've got to work for my living.
One day the younger Masai, who had taken a flock of sheep out to graze at the extreme west of the estate, came rushing in breathless and reported with intense excitement that the sheep had been driven off by some men who had pounced suddenly out of the bush. One was a Swahili, the rest negroes. They had carried him along with them for some distance and then let him go.
"How many were they?" asked John.
"Eight," replied the boy. "One had a gun."
"Which way did they go?"
The boy pointed to the west.
"We can tackle eight, Charley. Coja, saddle up the two best donkeys and bring us our rifles. This is something new, Charley. I wonder if it's our friend Juma again?"