"Well," I answered, "because we have used up most of the game in this neighborhood; we've had no really good shooting for several days. Killing hippos is not first-class hunting, as you know. Neither is killing lions at night; true, their skins are worth something, but not very much, and it's a kind of hunting that I don't care for particularly. Some skill is required, it is true, but I don't like the idea of concealing myself in a hole in the ground near the carcass of an animal that has been put out as bait. Of course, if any lions come along we'll take them in, but I would just as lief they would stay away.
"Now, as to moving away from here: I was thinking last night that we had better turn off to the west, where the river is much smaller than it is here, and there are plenty of good fording-places. Then we can cross it and work away to the north, until we get into what looks to be a good hunting-ground. There we can outspan and make a kraal."
Jack and Harry did not take kindly to my suggestion; they insisted that the shooting was still good enough, although they were obliged to admit that it was by no means equal to what we found on our arrival. All the time they were talking my mind was at work, and I thought I could see the reason for their wishing to remain. But I did not give any hint of what was uppermost in my thoughts, and though I held out promises of rare sport to the north of the river, I was unable to convince them. As all our movements were determined by a majority vote, I was left in the lurch, and obliged to assent to remaining a while longer where we were.
The manager reported certain little repairs necessary to the wagons, and we devoted the afternoon to them. At supper in the evening we discussed our plans for the next day, and ordered runners to go out and look for elephants and buffaloes in the forests where we had previously found them. I had little expectation that any would be discovered, as it is not generally the habit of these animals to remain long in a place where they have been disturbed.
We had just finished breakfast on the following morning when our manager came to the tent with a letter in his hand.
"The post has just arrived," said he, "and I bring a letter which you gentlemen can divide among you."
I took the letter from the manager's hands, and found that it was addressed on the envelope, "Messrs. Manson, Delafield, and Lawrence. In Camp near Luranga River." It bore no postmark, and I readily perceived that it had not come through regular course of mail. Before opening it I surmised its origin.
The letter was from Mrs. Roberts and Miss Boland; or rather it was from Mrs. Roberts, as her name alone was signed to it. It announced that they had just determined to make a movement to the north, and their men were at that moment inspanning the oxen. "We don't know exactly where we shall go," the letter said, "but somewhere to the north of the river, where we can find a good region for hunting. We are greatly obliged to you gentlemen for the kindness you have shown us, and should it ever be in our power to reciprocate, it will give us great pleasure to do so. Our manager says it will be three or four hours before we will be under way, and that gives us time to send this letter to you."
"Any answer?" the manager asked.
"We must send them an answer, certainly," said Jack. "Frank, sit down and drop them a note."