It was while I was gazing admiringly at a row of these pretty little creatures, that my boys drew my attention to a big moving object in the distance, whispering excitedly: "Look, missy—some big meat!" The native, I may explain, calls all game "meat." Focussing the object through my field-glasses, I saw that it was an unusually fine specimen of a roan antelope, the size of a small horse. These roan antelopes are, of course, quite different from the small puku, and other similar varieties; they are, in fact, the second biggest of the antelope species, only the eland being larger. This one, to the unaided eye, looked like a blue-black shadow moving obliquely across the bright sunlight, and I do not suppose I should ever have noticed it had it not been for my boys. With the glasses, however, I could see distinctly the beautiful dappled skin, note the proud carriage of the creature's head, and watch its long tail swaying rhythmically and regularly to and fro as it switched the flies from its hind quarters. It was moving across our track well in advance, and was evidently travelling from the river, where it had been for its morning drink, back to the safety and shelter of the bush beyond. When I first focussed it, it was going quite leisurely, but after I had been observing it for about a minute or two I saw it stop suddenly, and gaze anxiously in my direction. Evidently it had got our wind. It started to throw up its head in angry defiance. Then it began to paw the ground, and a moment later it was off and away like an arrow from a bow.
Natives Gambling
This game is played with the hollowed-out rib of a palm leaf, into which small round stones, or beads, are dropped through a hole in the centre. Both skill and luck enter into its composition.
Presently we breasted a slight rise, and then rode down into a sort of circular depression, in the centre of which was a small "vley," or hollow, where the water collects from the rainy season. It was literally covered, and also surrounded, by an immense collection of birds of all kinds, amongst them being about a hundred marabou. My heart gave a great bound at the sight of these latter, and for the first and last time during our journey I regretted that I carried no gun. Here were hundreds of pounds' worth of the most beautiful and highly-prized feathers in the world within easy reach of me, and I couldn't get one of them. I could easily have shot them had I a weapon handy, for they allowed me to come quite close to them, before lazily rising, only to settle again a few hundred yards farther on. Later on I told Schomburgk about them, and begged him to go back and get me at least one bird; but his reply was a blunt negative. "I've told you already I will not shoot these beautiful creatures," he said. "But marabou feathers!" I replied, almost crying with vexation. "You don't know what they mean to a woman. And such splendid specimens too. Why they are practically priceless." To all of which, and much more on similar lines, he listened in silence, only shaking his head doggedly from time to time. However, I was destined to get my marabou feathers later on, and that, too, without doing violence to Schomburgk's feelings by killing even one single bird. But that is another story, which will come in its proper place. These marabou birds, by the way, were first discovered to exist in Togo by Schomburgk during this very trip, he coming across a flock of them accidentally, just as I had done. When we went back to Mangu, and he told them there what he had seen, they absolutely declined to believe him, holding that he must have mistaken some other commoner species of the crane family for the rare and valuable marabou stork. Our old friend. Captain von Hirschfeld, was especially emphatic on the subject, saying that he had resided in the country for years, that he had travelled all about it on his official tours of inspection, and that if there were any such birds in Togoland he would have been sure to have come across them. We were standing on the square in front of the Captain's house when this conversation took place, and Schomburgk, happening to glance up, remarked quietly to von Hirschfeld: "Why, there's one flying overhead now," at the same time handing him his glasses. "By gad, you're right," cried the Captain, after he had focussed the bird, "I can see the tail feathers plainly." And from now on therefore the Leptoptilus crumenifer will figure in the list of birds indigenous to Togo. I may add that after coming to London I made frequent inquiries in the millinery shops of the West End for African marabou feathers, but never once did I succeed in getting even a peep at the genuine article. Those I was offered, and at very high prices too, were mostly of the far less valuable Indian variety, though others were not even derived from any of the cranes, but were the product of all sorts of birds, including vultures.
After leaving the vley where the marabou were, we rode on and on across the shadeless, waterless, sun-baked plain. The heat was terrific, and the guide seemed to have completely lost his way. I confess to feeling anxious, and at length I called a halt, feeling that we might as well be sitting still, as to go on travelling in a direction that might be a wrong one. In about an hour Schomburgk and Hodgson turned up. They had been following the course of the river, scouting, taking compass bearings, and doing a little mapping. They had found that the Oti took another big bend just here.
Schomburgk took over command of the caravan from me, and set a course due north, towards a fairly large village called Sumbu. Soon afterwards we quitted the plain, and climbed up on to a plateau. Everybody was very tired, including myself, and I quite understood now why natives preferred to go nude, or with only a loin-cloth. One never realises how utterly ridiculous and superfluous civilised clothing can become, until one travels in the African bush during the heat of the day. We passed many dirty little Tschokossi villages, mostly deserted or in ruins, but saw no inhabitants. At last, when we were beginning to despair, we discerned in one we sighted some slight signs of life; a stray chicken or so, and a mongrel dog. Riding up to it we found it to be quite a small hamlet, inhabited by a mixed lot of Tschokossi, and some Fulani, who were looking after their cattle. The Tschokossi, I may explain, are not themselves cattle-breeders. All the stock they own comes down to them from the north by way of trade, and always in charge of the Fulani, who, in regard to their knowledge of cattle and their ways, may be termed the Masai of Western Africa. These Fulani drovers, being mostly poor men in their own country, or at all events cattle-less, which amounts to much the same thing, are only too glad to remain and settle down amongst the Tschokossi for a while, and look after their herds. They receive as their reward the milk, and at stated intervals a calf or two. These latter increase and multiply, and in time each Fulani possesses a herd of his own, and returns to his own land a rich man, judged by Fulani standards. I was greatly interested in these people, who are, as I think I have already mentioned, of an altogether different type to the ordinary negro tribes dwelling in this part of Africa. I found them quite intelligent to talk to. They possess clear-cut features, approximating to the European standard, light chocolate-coloured skins, and some of the women I saw were by no means bad-looking. The Fulani as a class are supposed to be of Arab and Berber blood, with a dash of the negroid. At this village we called a halt, and partook of a hurried lunch, which was greatly improved by a big calabash of fresh milk brought us by the Fulani herdsmen.
After lunch Schomburgk and I cantered on to Sumbu, about two miles distant, leaving the caravan to follow. On the way two reitbuck got up, and stood looking at us not ten yards away. Schomburgk's language at not having his rifle with him was, to put it mildly, not elegant. Personally, I was glad that he hadn't got it with him, but I did not tell him so. The beautiful creatures were so close up, that I could see the look of startled terror in their lovely big brown eyes, and I was pleased when they scampered away, even though their meat would have come in most handy for the pot. At Sumbu, we pitched our camp on a promontory overlooking the Oti, which is here bordered with fresh grass, very pretty. The outlook, too, over the plains to the north and west was very cheering, with herds of puku grazing quietly at intervals as far as the eye could reach. We intend staying here four or five days.