And
when you catch sight of him in the distance, you would never
suspect that he knew of your presence at all. He saunters slowly,
apparently aimlessly, along pausing often, evidently too bored to
take any interest in life. You wait quite breathlessly for him to
pass behind cover. Then you are going to make a very rapid
advance, and catch his leisurely retreat. But the moment old Leo
does pass behind the cover, his appearance of idle stroller
vanishes. In a dozen bounds he is gone.
That is what makes lion hunting delightful. There are some
regions, very near settlements, where it is perhaps justifiable
to poison these beasts. If you are a true sportsman you will
confine your hound-hunting to those districts. Elsewhere, as far
as playing fair with a noble beast is concerned, you may as well
toss a coin to see which you shall take-your pack or a
strychnine bottle.
XIII. ON THE MANAGING OF A SAFARI
We made our way slowly down the river. As the elevation dropped,
the temperature rose. It was very hot indeed during the day, and
in the evening the air was tepid and caressing, and musical with
the hum of insects. We sat about quite comfortably in our
pajamas, and took our fifteen grains of quinine per week against
the fever.
The character of the jungle along the river changed
imperceptibly, the dhum palms crowding out the other trees;
until, at our last camp, were nothing but palms. The wind in them
sounded variously like the patter or the gathering onrush of
rain. On either side the country remained unchanged, however. The
volcanic hills rolled away to the distant ranges. Everywhere grew
sparsely the low thornbrush, opening sometimes into clear plains,
closing sometimes into dense thickets. One morning we awoke to
find that many supposedly sober-minded trees had burst into
blossom fairly over night. They were red, and yellow and white
that before were green, a truly gorgeous sight.
Then we turned sharp to the right and began to ascend a little
tributary brook coming down the wide flats from a cleft in the
hills. This was prettily named the Isiola, and, after the first
mile or so, was not big enough to afford the luxury of a jungle
of its own. Its banks were generally grassy and steep, its
thickets few, and its little trees isolated in parklike spaces.
To either side of it, and almost at its level, stretched plains,
but plains grown with scattered brush and shrubs so that at a
mile or two one's vista was closed. But for all its scant ten
feet of width the Isiola stood upon its dignity as a stream. We
discovered that when we tried to cross. The men floundered
waist-deep on uncertain bottom; the syces received much
unsympathetic comment for their handling of the animals, and we
had to get Billy over by a melodramatic "bridge of life" with B.,
F., myself, and Memba Sasa in the title roles.
Then we pitched camp in the open on the other side, sent the
horses back from the stream until after dark, in fear of the
deadly tsetse fly, and prepared to enjoy a good exploration of
the neighbourhood. Whereupon M'ganga rose up to his gaunt and
terrific height of authority, stretched forth his bony arm at
right angles, and uttered between eight and nine thousand
commands in a high dynamic monotone without a single pause for
breath. These, supplemented by about as many more, resulted in
(a) a bridge across the stream, and (b) a banda.
A banda is a delightful African institution. It springs from
nothing in about two hours, but it takes twenty boys with a
vitriolic M'ganga back of them to bring it about. Some of them
carry huge backloads of grass, or papyrus, or cat-tail rushes, as
the case may be; others lug in poles of various lengths from
where their comrades are cutting them by means of their panga. A
panga, parenthetically, is the safari man's substitute for axe,
shovel, pick, knife, sickle, lawn-mower, hammer, gatling gun,
world's library of classics, higher mathematics, grand opera, and
toothpicks. It looks rather like a machete with a very broad end
and a slight curved back. A good man can do extraordinary things
with it. Indeed, at this moment, two boys are with this
apparently clumsy implement delicately peeling some of the small
thorn trees, from the bared trunks of which they are stripping
long bands of tough inner bark.
With these three raw materials-poles, withes, and grass-M'ganga
and his men set to work. They planted their corner and end poles,
they laid their rafters, they completed their framework, binding
all with the tough withes; then deftly they thatched it with the
grass. Almost before we had settled our own affairs, M'ganga was
standing before us smiling. Gone now was his mien of high
indignation and swirling energy.
"Banda naquisha," he informed us.
And we moved in our table and our canvas chairs; hung up our
water bottles; Billy got out her fancy work. Nothing could be
pleasanter nor more appropriate to the climate than this wide low
arbour, open at either end to the breezes, thatched so thickly
that the fierce sun could nowhere strike through.
The men had now settled down to a knowledge of what we were like;
and things were going smoothly. At first the African porter will
try it on to see just how easy you are likely to prove. If he
makes up his mind that you really are easy, then you are in for
infinite petty annoyance, and possibly open mutiny. Therefore,
for a little while, it is necessary to be extremely vigilant, to
insist on minute performance in all circumstances where later you
might condone an omission.
