 Chapter 9 The Death of the Second Man-Eater It must not be imagined that with the death of this lion our troubles at Sava were in an end. His companion was still at large and very soon began to make us unpleasantly aware of the fact. Only a few nights elapsed before he made an attempt to get at the Permanent Way Inspector, climbing up the steps of his bungalow and prowling round the Vendoranda. The Inspector, hearing the noise and thinking it was a drunken coolly, shouted angrily, Go away! But, fortunately for him, did not attempt to come out or to open the door. Thus, disappointed in his attempt to obtain a meal of hue and flesh, the lion seized a couple of the Inspector's goats and devoured them there and then. On hearing of this occurrence, I determined to sit up the next night near the Inspector's bungalow. Fortunately, there was a vacant iron shanty close at hand with a convenient loophole in it for firing from, and outside this, I placed three full-grown goats as bait, tying them to a half length of rail, weighing about 250 pounds. The night passed uneventfully until just before daybreak, when at last the lion turned up, pounced on one of the goats and made off with it, at the same time dragging away the other's rail and all. I fired several shots in his direction, but it was pitch dark and quite impossible to see anything. So, I only succeeded in hitting one of the goats. I often longed for a flashlight on such occasions. Next morning I started off in pursuit and was joined by some others from the camp. I found that the trail of the goats and rail was easily followed, and we soon came up about a quarter of a mile away to where the lion was still busy at his meal. He was concealed in some thick bush and growled angrily on hearing our approach. Finally, as we got closer, he suddenly made a charge, rushing to the bushes at a great pace. In an instant, every man of the party scrambled hastily up the nearest tree, with the exception of one of my assistants, Mr. Winkler, who stood steadily by me throughout. The brute, however, did not press his charge home, and on throwing stones into the bushes where we had last seen him, we guessed by the silence that he had slung off. We therefore advanced cautiously, and on getting up to the place, discovered that he had indeed escaped us, leaving two of the goats scarcely touched. Thinking that in all probability the lion would return as usual to finish his meal, I had a very strong scaffolding put up a few feet away from the dead goats, and took up my position on it before dark. On this occasion, I brought my gunbearer, Maena, to take a turn at watching, as I was by this time worn out for a want of sleep, having spent so many nights on the lookout. I was just dozing off comfortably when suddenly I felt my arm seized, and on looking up, saw Maena pointing in the direction of the goats. Yeah, lion was all he whispered. I grasped my doubled smoothbore, which I had charged with a slug, and waited patiently. In a few moments I was rewarded, for as I watched the spot where I expected the lion to appear, there was a rustling among the bushes, and I saw him stealthily emerge into the open, and pass almost directly beneath us. I fired both barrels practically together into his shoulder, and to my joy could see him go down under the force of the blow. Quickly I reached for the magazine rifle. Before I could use it, he was out of sight among the bushes, and I had to fire after him quite at random. Nevertheless, I was confident of getting him in the morning, and accordingly set out as soon as it was light. For over a mile there was no difficulty in following the blood trail, and as he had rested several times I felt sure that he had been badly wounded. In the end, however, my hunt proved fruitless, for after a time the traces of blood ceased, and the service of the ground became rocky, so that I was no longer able to follow the spore. About this time, Sir Gyle Ford Molesworth, KCIE, late consulting engineer to the government of India for state railways, passed through Savo on a tour of inspection on behalf of the Foreign Office. After examining the bridge and other works and expressing his satisfaction, he took a number of photographs, one or two of which he has kindly allowed me to reproduce in this book. He thoroughly sympathized with us and all the trials we had endured from the man-eaters, and was delighted that one at least was dead. When he asked me if I expected to get the second line soon, I will remember his half-downing smiles as I rather too confidently asserted that I hoped to bag him also in the course of a few days. As it happened, there was no sign of our enemy for about ten days after this, and we began to hope that he had died of his wounds in the bush. All the same, we still took every precaution at night, and it was fortunate that we did so, as otherwise at least one more victim would have been added to the list. For on the night of December 27th, I was suddenly aroused by terrified shouts from my trolleymen, who slept in a tree close outside my Boma, to the effect that a lion was trying to get at them. It would have been madness to have gone out as the moon was hidden by dense clouds, and it was absolutely impossible to see anything more than a yard in front of one, so all I could do was to fire off a few rounds just to frighten the brute away. This apparently had the desired effect, for the men were not further molested that night, but the man-eater had evidently prowled about for some time, for we found in the morning that he had gone right into every one of their tents, and around the tree was a regular ring of his footmarks. The following evening I took up my position in this same tree, in the hope that he would make another attempt. The night began badly, as, while climbing up to my perch, I very nearly put my hand on a venomous snake which was lying coiled around one of the branches. As may be imagined, I came down again very quickly, but one of my men managed to dispatch it with a long pole. Fortunately, the night was clear and cloudless, and the moon made everything almost as bright as day. I kept watch until about 2 a.m., when I arrived Mahina to take his turn. For about an hour I slept peacefully with my back to the tree, and then woke suddenly, with uncanny feeling that something was wrong. Mahina, however, was on the alert and had seen nothing, and although I looked carefully around us on all sides, I too could discover nothing unusual. Only half satisfied, I was about to lie back again. When I fancied I saw something move a little way off among the low bushes. Ungazing intently at the spot for a few seconds, I found I was not mistaken. It was the manny there cautiously stalking us. The ground was fairly open around our tree, with only a small bush every here and there, and from our position it was a most fascinating sight to watch this great brute stealing stealthily around us, taking advantage of every bit of cover as he came. His skill showed that he was an old hand at the terrible game of manhunting, so I determined to run no unto risk of losing him this time. I accordingly waited until he got quite close, about 20 yards away, and then fired my 303 at his chest. I heard the bullets strike him, but unfortunately it had no knockdown effect, for with a fierce growl he turned and made off with great long bounds. Before he disappeared from sight however, I managed to have three more shots at him from the magazine rifle, and another growl told me that the last of these had also taken effect. We waited daylight with impatience, and at the first glimmer of dawn we set out to hunt him down. I took a native tracker with me so that I was free to keep a good look out, while Mahina followed immediately behind with a martini car pine. Splashes of blood being plentiful, we were able to get along quickly, and we had not proceeded more than a quarter of a mile through the jungle when suddenly a fierce warning growl was heard right in front of us. Looking cautiously through the bushes, I could see the man either glaring out in our direction and showing his tusks in an angry snarl. I had once took careful aim and fired. Instantly he sprang out and made a most determined charge down on us. I fired again and knocked him over, but in a second he was up once more and coming for me as fast as he could in his crippled condition. A third shot had no apparent effect, so I put out my hand for the martini, hoping to stop him with it. To my dismay, however, it was not there. The terror of the sudden charge had proved too much for Mahina, and both he and the car pine were by this time well on their way up a tree. In the circumstances there was nothing to do but follow suit, which I did without loss of time, and but for the fact that one of my shots had broken a hind leg, the brute would most certainly have had me. Even as it was, I had barely time to swing myself up out of its breach before he arrived at the foot of the tree. When the lion found he was too late, he started to limp back to the thicket, but by this time I had seized the carabine from Mahina, and the first shot I fired from it seemed to give him his quietess, for he fell over, a motionless. Rather foolishly, I had once scrambled down from the tree and walked up towards him. To my surprise, and no little alarm, he climbed up and attempted another charge. This time however, a martini bullet in the chest and another in the head finished him for good and all. He dropped in his tracks, not five yards away from me and died gamely, biting savagely at a branch which had fallen to the ground. By this time all the workmen in camp attracted by the sound of the firing had arrived on the scene and so great was their resentment toward the brute who had killed such numbers of their comrades that was only with the greatest difficulty that I could restrain them from tearing the dead body to pieces. Eventually, amid the wild rejoicings of the natives and Cooleys, I had the lion carried to my Boma, which was close at hand. On examination we found no less than six bullet holes in the body and embedded only a little way in the flesh of the back was a slug which I had fired into him from the scaffolding about 10 days previously. He measured nine feet six inches from tip of nose to tip of tail and stood three feet 11 and a half inches high. But as in the case of his companion, the skin was disfigured by being deeply scarred all over by the Boma thorns. The news of the death of the second devil soon spread far and wide over the country and natives actually traveled from up and down the line to have a look at my trophies and at the devil killer as they called me. Best of all the Cooleys who had absconded came flocking back to Savo and much to my relief work was resumed and we were never again troubled by man-eaters. It was amusing indeed to notice the change which took place in the attitude of the workmen towards me after I had killed the two lions. Instead of wishing to murder me as they once did, they could not now do enough for me and as a token of their gratitude they presented me with a beautiful silver bowl as well as with a long poem written in Hindustani describing all our trials and my ultimate victory. As the poem relates our troubles in somewhat quaint and biblical language I have given a translation of it in the appendix. The bowl I shall always consider my most highly prized and hardest one trophy. The inscription on it reads as follows. Sir, we your overseer timekeepers Mistaris and workmen present you with this bowl as a token of our gratitude to you for your bravery in killing two man-eating lions at great risk to your own life thereby saving us from the fate of being devoured by these terrible monsters who nightly broke into our tents and took our fellow workers from our side. In presenting you with this bowl we all add our prayers for your long life, happiness, and prosperity. We shall ever remain, sir, your grateful servants. Babu Purshottam Herji Purmar Overseer and clerk of works, on behalf of your workmen dated at Savo, January 30th, 1899. Before I leave the subject of the man-eaters of Savo, it may be of interest to mention these two lions possessed the distinction, probably unique among wild animals, of having been specifically referred to in the House of Lords by the Prime Minister of the day. Speaking of the difficulties which had been encountered in the construction of the Uganda Railway, the late Lord Salisbury said, the whole of the works were put a stop to for three weeks because of a party of man-eating lions appeared in a duality and conceived a most unfortunate taste for our parters. At last the laborer is entirely declined to go on unless they were guarded by an iron entrenchment. Of course it is difficult to work a railway under these conditions and until we found an enthusiastic sportsman to get rid of these lions our enterprise was seriously hindered. Also the spectator of March 3rd, 1900 had an article entitled the lions that stopped the railway from which the following extracts are taken. The parallel to the story of the lions which stopped the rebuilding of Samaria must occur to everyone and if the Samaritans had quarter as good cause for their fears as had the railway Coolies, their wish to propitiate the local deities is easily understood. If the whole body of lion anecdote from the days of the Assyrian kings to last year of the 19th century were collated and brought together it would not equal in tragedy or atrocity the savageness or insure and insolent contempt for man armed or unarmed white or black the story of these two beasts. To what a distance the whole story carries us back and how impossible it becomes to account for the survival of primitive man against this kind of foe for fire which has hitherto been regarded as his main safeguard against the carnivora these cared nothing. It is curious the savo lions were not killed by poison for Strychnine is easily used and with effect. I may mention that poison was tried but without effect. The poison carcasses of transport animals which had died from the bite of the titsi fly were placed in likely spots but the wily man eaters would not touch them and much preferred live men to dead donkeys. Poison may have been used early in history of man for its powers are employed with strange scale by the men in the tropical forest both in American and West Central Africa. But there is no evidence that the old inhabitants of Europe or of Assyria or Asia Minor ever killed lions or wolves by this means. They looked to the king or chief or some champion to kill these monsters for them. It was not the sport but the duty of kings and was in itself a title to be a ruler of men. Thesias who cleared the roads of beasts and robbers, Hercules the lion killer, St George the dragon slayer and all the rest of their class owed to this everlasting fame. From the story of the savo river we can appreciate their services to man even at this distance of time. When the jungle twinkled with hundreds of lamps as the shout went on from camp to camp the first line was dead as the hurrying crowds fell prostrate in the midnight forest laying their heads on his feet and the Africans danced savage and ceremonial dances of thanksgiving. Mr. Patterson must have realized in no common way what it was to have been a hero and deliverer in the days when man was not yet undisputed lord of the creation and might pass at any moment on the savage dominion of the beasts. Well had the two man-eaters earned all this fame they had devoured between them no less than 28 Indian Coolies in addition to scores of unfortunate African natives of whom no official record was kept. End of chapter nine recording by Drew Alche. Chapter 10 of the man-eaters of Savo. This is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Drew Alche. The Man-eaters of Savo by J. H. Patterson. Chapter 10 The Completion of the Savo Bridge When all the excitement had died down and there was no longer any dread of the man-eaters work went on briskly and the bridge over the Savo rapidly neared completion. As the peers and abutments progressed in height the question of how to lift the large stones into their positions had to be solved. We possessed no cranes for this purpose so I set to work and improvise a shears made of a couple of 30-foot rails. These were bolted together at the top while the other ends were fixed at a distance of about 10 feet apart in a large block of wood. This contrivance acted capitally and by manipulation of ropes and pulleys the heavy stones were swung into position quickly and without difficulty so that in a very short time the masonry of the bridge was completed. The next business was to span the 60-foot distance between the peers with iron girders. As I had neither winches nor sufficient blocks and tackle to haul these over into position I was driven to erect temporary piers in the middle of each span built up crib shape of wooden sleepers. Great wooden beams were stretched across from the stone piers to these cribs and laid with rails and the girder was run over its exact place while still on the trucks in which it had been brought up from the coast. It was next jacked up from the trucks which were hauled away empty, the temporary bridge was dismantled and the girder finally lowered gently into position. When the last girder was thus successfully placed no time was lost in linking up the permanent way and very soon I had the satisfaction of seeing the first train across the finished work. Curiously enough only a day or so after the bridge had been completed and the intermediate cribs cleared away a tremendous rainstorm broke over the country. The bridge started to rise rapidly soon flooding its banks and becoming a raging murky torrent tearing up trees by the roots and whirling them along like straws. Steadily higher and higher arose the flood and standing on my bridge I watched expectantly for the two temporary trolley bridges which we remembered we had built across the stream in order to bring stone and sand to the main work to give way before the ever rising volume of water. Nor had I longed to wait for as soon as I caught sight of a solid mass of palm stems and railway sleepers sweeping with almost irresistible force around the bend of the river some little distance above the bridge. This I knew was the debris of the trolley crossing furthest up the river. On it came and with it an additional bank of stormy looking water. I held my breath for a space of a moment as it actually leaped at the second frail structure. There was a dull thud and a rending and ribbing of timbers and then the flood rolled on towards me leaving not a vestige of the two bridges behind it. The impact indeed was so great that the rails were twisted around the broken tree trunks as if they had been so much ordinary wire. The double tier of wreckage now swept forward and hurled itself with a sullen plunge against the cut waters of my stone piers. The shock was great but to my immense satisfaction the bridge took it without a tremor and I saw the remnant of the temporary crossing swirl through the great spans and quickly disappear on its journey to the ocean. I confessed that I witnessed the whole occurrence with a thrill of pride. We were never long without excitement of some kind or another at Savo. When the camp was not being attacked by man-eating lions it was visited by leopards hyenas wild dogs wild cats and other inhabitants of the jungle around us. These animals did a great deal of damage to the herds of sheep and goats which were kept to supply the commissariat and there was always great rejoicing when a capture was made in one of the many traps that were laid for them. Leopards especially are most destructive often killing simply for pleasure and not for food and I have always harbored animosity towards them since the night when one wantonly destroyed a whole herd of mine. I happened at the time to have a flock of about thirty sheep and goats which I kept for food and for milk and which were secured at sundown in a grass hut at one corner of my Boma. One particularly dark night we were startled by a tremendous commotion in this shed but as this was before the man-eaters were killed no one dared stir out to investigate the cause of the disturbance. I naturally thought that the intruder was one of the demons but all I could do was to fire several shots in the direction of the hut hoping to frighten him away. In spite of these however it was some time before the noise died down and everything became still again. As soon as it was dawn I went to the shed to see what had happened and there to my intense anger I found every one of my sheep and goats lying stretched dead on the ground with its throat bitten through. A hole had been made through the frail wall of the shed and I saw from this and from the tracks all around that the author of the wholesale slaughter had been a leopard. He had not eaten one of the flock but had killed them all out of pure love of destruction. I hoped that he would return the next night to make a meal and should he do so I determined to have my revenge. I accordingly left the carcasses exactly as they lay and having a very powerful steel trap like an enormous rat trap and quite strong enough to hold a leopard if you should put his foot in it. I placed this in the opening into the shed and secured it by a stout chain to a long stake driven into the ground outside. Darkness found everyone in my Boma on the alert and listening anxiously to hear the noise the leopard would make the moment he was caught in the trap nor were we disappointed for about midnight we heard the click of the powerful spring followed immediately by frantic roaring and plunging. I had been sitting all evening with my rifle by my side and a lantern lighted so I immediately rushed out followed by my Chakotar watchman carrying the lamp. As we approached the shed the leopard made a frantic spring in our direction as far as the chain would allow him and this so frightened the Chakotar that he fled in terror leaving me in utter darkness. The night was as black as had been the previous one and I could see absolutely nothing but I knew the general direction in which to fire and accordingly emptied my magazine at the beast. As far as I could make out he kept dodging in and out through the broken wall of the goat house but in a short time my shots evidently told as his struggles ceased and all was still. I called out that he was dead and at once everyone in the Boma turned out bringing all the lanterns in the place. With the others came my indians overseer who shouted that he too wanted revenge as some of the goats hid along to him whereupon he leveled his revolver at the dead leopard and shutting his eyes tightly fired four shots in rapid succession. Naturally not one of these touched the beast but they caused considerable consternation amongst the outlookers who scattered rapidly to the right and left. Next morning a party of starving Wakamba happened to be passing just as I was about to skin the leopard and asked by means of signs to be allowed to do the job for me and then to take the meat. I of course assented to this proposal and in a very few minutes the skin had been neatly taken off and the famishing natives began a ravenous meal on the raw flesh. Wild dogs are also very destructive and often caused great losses among our sheep and goats. Many a night have I listened to these animals hunting and herring some poor creature of the wilds around my camp. They never relinquish a chase and will attack anything man or beast when really driven by hunger. I was at Sabo station one day unfortunately without my rifle when one of these dogs came up and stood within about 30 yards of me. He was a fine looking beast bigger than a collie with jet black hair and a white tipped pushy tail. I was very sorry that I had not brought my rifle as I badly wanted a specimen and never had another chance of obtaining one. END OF CHAPTER X I have always been very keenly interested in the different native races of Africa and consequently avail myself of every opportunity of studying their manners and customs. I had little scope for this Sabo however as the district around us was practically uninhabited. Still there was of course a good number of Swahili among my workmen together with a few Wakamba, Waniam, Weezy, and others. So I soon became more or less acquainted with the habits of these tribes. The Swahili live principally along the coast of British East Africa and at Zanzibar. They are a mixed race being the descendants of Arab fathers and Negro mothers. Their name is derived from the Arabic word Swahil, coast. But it has also been said, by some who have found them scarcely so guileless as might have been expected, to be really a corruption of the word Swahili, that is, those who cheat all alike. However that may be, the men are as a rule of splendid physique and well qualified for the calling that the majority of them follow, that of caravan porters. They are a careless, lighthearted, improvident people, and they are very fond of all the good things of this world, enjoying them thoroughly whenever they get a chance. Their life is spent in journeying to and from the interior, carrying heavy loads of provisions and trade goods on the one journey, and returning with similar loads of ivory or other products of the country. They are away for many months at a time on these expeditions, and consequently, as they cannot spend money on the march, they have a goodly number of rupees to draw on on their return to Mombasa. These generally disappear with wonderful rapidity, and when no more fun can be bought, they join another caravan and begin a new safari to the Great Lakes, or even beyond. Many a time have I watched them trudging along the old caravan road which cross the Savo at a fort about half a mile from the railway station. Here a halt was always called, so that they might wash and bathe in the cool waters of the river. Nothing ever seems to damp the spirit to the Swahili porter. Be his life ever so hard, his load ever so heavy, the moment it is off his back, and he is disposed of his posho, food, he straight away forgets all his troubles, and begins to laugh and sing and joke with his fellows, as if he were the happiest and luckiest mortal alive. Such was my cook, Mabruki, and his merry laugh was quite infectious. I remember that one day, he was opening a tin of biscuits for me, and not being able to pull off the underlid with his fingers, he seized a flap in his magnificent teeth and tugged at it. I shouted at him to stop, thinking that he might break a tooth, but he misunderstood my solicitude and gravely assured me that he would not spoil the tin. The Swahili men wore a white long cotton garment, like a night shirt, called a kanzu. The women, who were too liberally endowed to be entirely graceful, go about with bare arms and shoulders, and wear a long brightly colored cloth, which they wind tightly around their bosoms and then allow to fall to the feet. All are followers of the Prophet, and their social customs are consequently much the same as those of any other Mohabitan race, though with a good admixture of savagedom. They have a happy knack of giving a nickname to every European with whom they have to do. Such nickname, generally making reference to something peculiar or striking in his habits, temper, or appearance. On the whole, they are a kindly, generous folk, whom one cannot help liking. Of the many tribes which are to be seen about the railway on the way up from the coast, perhaps the most extraordinary looking are the Wenika, the people who inhabit the Thorninika, wilderness, which borders on the Teru Desert. They are exceedingly ugly and of low type. The men wear nothing by the way of dress, but a scanty and very dirty cloth thrown over their shoulders, while the women attire themselves only in a short kilt, which is tied round them very low on the waist. Both men and women adorn themselves with brass change round the neck, and coils of copper and iron wire round the arms. The nearest native inhabitants to Savo are the Wataita, who dwell in the mountains near Indy, some thirty miles away. My work often took me to this place, and on one of my visits, finding myself with some spare time on my hands, I set out to pay a long-promised visit to the district officer. A fairly good road ran from Indy Station to his house at the foot of the mountains, about four miles away, and on my arrival I was not only most hospitably entertained, but was also introduced to Magogo, the head chief of the Wataita, who would just come in for a chauri, consultation, about some affair of state. The old fellow appeared delighted to meet me, and promptly invited me to his crawl, some way up the hills. I jumped at the prospect of seeing a Wataita at home, so presently off we started in our heavy climb, my Indian servant Bahawal, coming with us. After a couple of hours' steady scramble up a steep and slippery goat path, we arrived at Magogo's capital, where I was at once introduced to his wives, who were busily engaged in making pambi, a native fermented drink, in the hollowed-out stump of a tree. I presented one of them with an orange for her child, but she did not understand what it was, for on tasting it she made a rye face and would not eat it. Still, she did not throw it away, but carefully put it into a bag with her other treasures. Doubtless for future investigation. As soon as the women saw Bahawal, however, he became the center of attraction, and I was eclipsed. He happened to have on a new puggery, with lots of goldwork on it, and this took their fancy immensely. They examined every line most carefully, and went into ecstasies over it. Just as their European sisters would have done over the latest Parisian creation. We made a short halt for rest and refreshment, and then started again on our journey to the top of the hills. After a stiff climb for another two hours, part of it through a thick black forest, we emerged on the summit, where I found I was well rewarded for my trouble by the magnificent views we obtained on all sides. The great Kilimanjaro stood out particularly well and made a very effective background to the fine panorama. I was surprised to find a number of well-fed cattle on the mountaintop, but I fancy Magogo thought I was casting an evil spell over them, when he saw me taking photographs of them as they grazed peacefully on the sweet grass which covered the plateau. Like most other natives of Africa, the Wattida are exceedingly superstitious, and this failing has turned a good account by the all-powerful Witch Doctor, or a medicine man. It is, for instance, an extraordinary sight to see the absolute faith which a kaitata would blow the Simba Dawa, or lion medicine, to the four points of the compass, before lying down to sleep in the open. This Dawa, which is of course obtainable only from the Witch Doctor, consists simply of a little black powder, usually carried in a tiny horn, stuck through a slit in the ear. But the kaitata firmly believes that a few grains of this dust blown round him from the palm of the hand is a complete safeguard against raging lions, seeking whom they may devour. And after the blowing ceremony, he will lie down and sleep in perfect confidence, even in the midst of a man-eater's district. In the nature of things, moreover, he never loses this touching face in the efficacy of the Witch Doctor's charm. For if he is attacked by a lion, the brute sees to it that he does not live to become an unbeliever. While if he is not attacked, it is of course quite clear that it is to the Dawa that he owes his immunity. For the rest, the Wattita are essentially a peace-loving and industrious people. And indeed, before the arrival of the British in the country, they hardly ever ventured down from their mountain fastnesses, owing to their dread of the warlike messiah. Each man has as many wives as he can afford to pay for in sheep or cattle. He provides each spouse with a separate establishment, but the family huts are clustered together, and as a rule, all live in perfect harmony. The most curious custom of the tribe is the filing of the front teeth into sharp points, which gives the whole face a most peculiar and rather diabolical expression. As usual, their ideas of costume are rather primitive. The men sometimes wear a scrap of cloth around the loins, while the women content themselves with the same or with a short kilt. Both sexes adorn themselves with a great quantity of copper iron wire coiled round their arms and legs, and smear their bodies all over with grease, the men adding red clay to the mixture. Many of the women also wear dozens of rows of beads, while their ears are hung with pieces of chain and other fantastic ornaments. The men always carry bows and poisoned arrows, as well as a seamy, a short, roughly fashioned sword, hung on a leather thong round the waist. A three-legged stool is also an important part of their equipment, and the slung on the shoulder went on the march. The next people met with on the road to the Great Lakes are the Wakamba, who inhabit the Ukumbani province, and may be seen from the Mototo and Dai to the Athi river. They are a very large tribe but have little cohesion, being split up into many clans under chiefs who govern in a patriarchal kind of way. In appearance and dress, or the want of it, they are very like the Watata, and they have the same custom of filing the front teeth. As a rule too, they are a peace-loving people, though when driven to it by hunger, they will commit very cruel and treacherous acts of wholesale murder. While the railway was being constructed, a severe famine occurred in their part of the country, when hundreds of them died of starvation. During this period, they several times swoot down on isolated railway maintenance gangs, and utterly annihilated them in order to obtain possession of the food which they knew would be stored in the camps. These attacks were always made by night. Like most other native tribes in East Africa, their only arms are the bow and poison arrows, but in the use of these primitive weapons, they are specially expert. The arrowhead remains in the flesh when the shaft is withdrawn, and if the poison is fresh, paralysis and death very quickly follow, the skin around the wound turning yellow and mortifying within an hour or two. This deadly poison is obtained, I believe, by boiling down a particular root, the arrowheads being dipped in the black, pitchy looking essence which remains. I am glad to say, however, that owing to the establishment of several mission stations amongst them, the Wakamba are quickly becoming the most civilized natives in the country, and the missionaries have adopted the sensible course of teaching people husbandry, and the practical arts and crafts of everyday life in addition to caring for their spiritual needs. End of Chapter 11, Recording by James Christopher, JX Christopher at yahoo.com. Chapter 12 A Night After Hippo During my stay at Savo, I made many little excursions into the surrounding country, and used to go off on a short shooting and exploring expedition whenever I had the opportunity. I was especially anxious to bag a hippopotamus, so I made up my mind to try my luck on the banks of the Sabaki. Unfortunately, I possessed no heavy rifle, which is almost a necessity for hippo shooting, but it occurred to me to supply the deficiency by manufacturing a few cartridges for my smoothbore. In these, I had double charges of powder and a hardened bullet made of lead mixed with about an eighth of part of tin. I well remember the anxiety with which I fired the first round of my homemade ammunition, as I more than half expected the barrel would burst. I lashed a gun in the fork of a tree, tied a piece of string a hundred feet long to the trigger, and then, taking shelter behind a friendly stump, pulled off. To my great satisfaction the barrel stood the test perfectly. More than that, on trying to penetrate the effect of my bullets, I found that they would smash through a steel plate an eighth of an inch thick at thirty yards range. This was quite good enough for my purpose, and gave me great confidence in the weapon. All the same, I had a very narrow escape one day while manufacturing some of this ammunition. My plan was to remove the shot from the cartridge, put in the additional powder, and ran this well in before replacing the wad and putting in the bullet. I had clamped my rifling machinery to my rough-hewn table, and was stamping the double charge of powder well down into the cartridge when suddenly, for some unknown reason, the whole charge exploded right in my face. Everything became pitch dark to me, and I groped my way about the little hut in agony of mind as well as of body, for I thought I had been blinded. I'm thankful to say, however, that gleams of light soon began to return to my eyes, and in a few hours' time I was almost all right again, and able to go on with my cartridge making. All my preparations having been made, I set out for the sabaki, taking with me my Indian gun-bearer, Mahina, my cook, Mabruki, a bisti, water-carrier, and a couple of natives to carry our odds and ends. On these occasions I usually took no tent but bivwacked in the open. We took some bread and a few tin provisions with us, but I could always depend upon getting a pa, guinea fowl, partridge a rock-rabbit, for the larder on the march. These rock-rabbits are more like big rats than rabbits, and are found in great numbers among the rocks along the banks of the rivers. They are not at all bad-eating, but the Swahili will not touch them. They call them tupu, shameless naked things, owing to their lack of a tail, of which indeed they possess not even a vestige. A root lay by the always-interesting Savo River. Along the banks, everything within breach of its moisture is delightfully fresh and green. Palms and other trees, festooned with brilliant flowering creepers, flourish along its course. All kinds of monkeys chatter and jabber in the shade overhead as they swing themselves from branch to branch, while birds of the most gorgeous plumage flutter about, giving a very tropical aspect to the scene. On the other hand, if one is tempted to stray away from the river, be it only for a few yards, one comes immediately into the parched, thorny wilderness of stunted leafless trees. Here the sun beats down pitilessly and makes the Nika and the Savo Valley almost intolerable. The river has its source at the foot of snow-crowned Kilimanjaro. Once it flows for about 80 miles in a northerly direction until it joins the Othi River about seven miles below Savo Station. From this point the United Streams take the name of Sabaki, and flow more or less eastwards until they reach the Indian Ocean, at Malindi, some 70 miles north of Mombasa. The narrow and tortuous Masai warpath winds along its whole length, but although we followed this trail, our journey was nevertheless a very slow one, owing to the overhanging branches and creepers from which we had constantly to be disengaged. The march was full of interest, however, for it was not long before we came upon fresh treks, both of Hippo and Rhino. Every now and again also we caught glimpses of startled bushbuck and waterbuck, while occasionally the sound of a splash in the water told of a wary crocodile. We had gone about half the distance to the Sabaki, when we came upon an unexpected obstacle in the shape of a great ridge of barren rugged rock, about a hundred feet high, which extended for about a mile or so on both banks of the river. The sides of this gorge went sheer down into the water and were quite impossible to scale. I therefore determined to make a detour round it, but Mahini was confident that he could walk along in the river itself. I hinted mildly at the possibility of there being crocodiles under the rock ledges. Mahina declared, however, that there was no danger, and, making a bundle of his lower garments, he tied it to his back and stepped into the water. For a few minutes all went well, then in an instant he was lifted right off his feet by the rush of the water and whirled away. The river took a sharp bend in this gorge and he was rounded and out of our sight in no time. The last glimpse we caught of him showing him vainly trying to catch hold of an overhanging branch. Although we had once made all the haste we could to get round the ridge of rocks, it took us nearly half an hour to do it. I had almost given up hope of ever seeing Mahina again and was much relieved, therefore, when we reached the riverside once more to find him safe and sound, and little the worse for his adventure. Luckily he had been dashed up against a rushy bank and had managed to scramble out with no more serious damage than a bruised shin. Eventually we arrived at the junction of the rivers and proceeded some way down the Sabaki, besides which the Savva looks very insignificant. Several islands are dotted about in midstream and are overgrown with tall reeds and rushes, in which hippo find capital covered all year round. As with the Savva, the banks of the Sabaki are lined with trees of various kinds, affording most welcome shade from the heat of the sun, and skirting the river is a caravan road from the interior, still used, I believe, for smuggling slaves and ivory to the coast, where dowes are in readiness to convey them to Persia or Arabia. After an early dinner, which Mabruki soon got ready, I left my followers encamped in a safe Boma, a mile away from the river, and started out with Mahini to find a suitable tree near a hippo run, in which to spend the night. Having some difficulty in finding a likely spot, we crossed to the other side of the river, rather a risky thing to do on account of the number of crocodiles in it. We found a fairly shallow ford, however, and managed to get safely over. Here, on what was evidently an island during flood time, we found innumerable traces of both hippo and rhino. In fact, the difficulty was to decide which track was the best and the freshest. At length, I picked out a trace close to the river, and, commanding a stretch of sand, which was all flattened down and looked as if at least one hippo rolled there regularly every night. As there was still about an hour before sundown, we did not take up our station at once, but proceeded along the bank to see if any other game was about. We had not gone very far when Mahini, who was a little way ahead, signaled to me and, unjoining him, I saw a splendid looking waterbuck standing in a shallow pool of the river. It was the first time I had seen one of these fine antelope, and I was delighted with the sight. I might have got twenty yards or so nearer, but I thought I had better not risk moving, so I aimed at the shoulder and fired. The buck gave one leap into the air, and then turned and galloped quickly behind an island, which completely hid him from view. We waited for him to clear the rushes at the other end of that island, but as he did not appear, I got impatient and plunged into the river, regardless of crocodiles or anything else. Unrounding the island, however, he was nowhere to be seen, and had evidently turned off while in the shelter of the reeds, and so gained the opposite bank. I was keenly disappointed at my failure, for it was impossible to follow him up. To do so, we should have had to make a long detour to get across the river, and by that time darkness would have set in. This incident shows the great drawback to the 303, namely that it has very little knockdown effect unless it strikes the vital part, and even then, in a bush country, an animal may manage to go far enough to be lost. On the other hand, an animal wounded with a hard bullet is likely to make a speedy recovery, which is a great blessing. Mahina was even more upset at the escape of the buck than I was, and as we trudged back through the sand to our tree, he was full of gloomy forebodings of an unlucky night. By the light of a splendid full moon, we settled ourselves on a great outspreading branch, and commenced our vigil. Soon the jungle around us began to be alive with its peculiar sounds. A nightbird would call. A crocodile shot his jaws with a snap, or a rhino, or hippo, crashed through the bushes on its way to the water. Now and again we could even hear the distant roar of the lion. Still, there was nothing to be seen. After waiting for some considerable time, a great hippo, at last, made his appearance and came splashing along in our direction. But unfortunately took up his position behind a tree, which in the most tantalizing way completely hid him from view. Here he stood, tooting and snorting and splashing about to his heart's content for what seemed ours, I watched for this ungainly creature to emerge from his covert. But as he seemed determined not to show himself, I lost patience and made up my mind to go down after him. I therefore handed my rifle to Mahina, so lower to me on reaching the ground, and began to descend carefully, holding on by the creepers which encircled the tree. To my intense vexation and disappointment, just as I was in this helpless condition, halfway to the ground, the great hippo suddenly came up from his shelter and calmly lumbered along right underneath me. I bitterly lamented my ill luck and want of patience, for I could almost have touched his broad back as he passed. It was under these exasperating conditions that I saw a hippo for the first time, and without doubt he is the ugliest and most forbidding looking brute I have ever beheld. The moment the great beast had passed our tree, he sent to us. Snorted loudly and dived into the bushes close by, smashing through them like a traction engine. In screwing myself round to watch him go, I broke the creepers by which I was holding on and landed on my back in the sand at the foot of the tree. None the worse are my short drop, but considerably startled at the thought that the hippo might come back at any moment. I climbed up to my perch again without loss of time, but he was evidently as much frightened as I was, and returned no more. Shortly after this we saw two rhino come down to the river to drink. They were too far off for a shot, however, so I did not disturb them, and they gradually waddled upstream out of sight. Then we heard the awe-inspiring roar of a hungry lion close by, and presently another hippo gave forth this tooting challenge a little way down the river. As there seemed no likelihood of getting a shot at him from our tree, I made up my mind to stalk him on foot, so we both descended from our perch and made our way slowly through the trees in the semi-darkness. There were numbers of animals about, and I am sure that neither of us felt very comfortable as we crept along in the direction of the splashing hippo. For my own part I fancied every moment that I saw in front of me the form of a rhino, or a lion ready to charge down upon us out of the shadow of the bush. In this manner, with nerves strung to the highest pitch, we reached the edge of the river in safety, only to find that we were again balked by a small rush-covered island on the other side of which our quarry could be heard. There was a good breeze blowing directly from him, however, so I thought the best thing to do was to attempt to get onto the island, and to have a shot at him from there. Mahina, too, was eager for the fray, so we let ourselves quietly into the water, which here was quite shallow and reached only to our knees, and waited slowly across. Unpeering cautiously through the reeds at the corner of the island, I was surprised to find that I could see nothing of the hippo. But I soon realized that I was looking too far ahead for on lowering my eyes there he was, not twenty-five yards away, lying down in the shallow water, only half covered and practically facing us. His closeness to us made me rather anxious for our safety, more especially as just then he rose to his feet and gave forth the peculiar challenge or call which we had already heard so often during the night. All the same as he raised his head, I fired at it. He whirled round, made a plunge forward, staggered, and fell, and then lay quite still. To make assurance doubly sure I gave him a couple of more bullets as he lay, but we found afterwards that they were not needed as my first shot had been a very lucky one and had penetrated the brain. We left him where he fell and got back to our perch, glad and relieved to be in safety once more. As soon as it was daylight we were joined by my own men and by several Wakamba who had been hunting in the neighborhood, the natives cut out the tusks of the hippo, which were rather good ones, and feasted ravenously on the flesh while I turned my attention with gratitude to the hot coffee and cakes which Mabruki had meanwhile prepared. Red by Sally McConnell in Bettie's Bay, South Africa, in February 2010. Immediately after breakfast camp was struck and accompanied by a few of the Wakamba, we started off with the Undungu escarpment, a frowning ridge which runs for a great distance parallel to the Sabaki, some three or four miles from its northern bank. We had not gone very far before I caught sight of a fine waterbuck, and successfully billed him over, a good omen for the day, which put us all in excellent spirits. Mabruki cut off several strips of the tough meat and impaled them on a sharp stick to dry in the sun as he went along. I warned him that he had better be careful that a land did not scent the meat, as if it did it would be sure to follow up and kill him. Of course I did not mean this seriously, but Mabruki was a great glatten and by no means courageous, so I wanted to frighten him. As we trudged along towards the hill, I heard a peculiar noise behind a small rising to our right, and on looking over the crest I was delighted to see two beautiful giraffes feeding peacefully a little distance away and straining their long necks to get at the tops of some mimosa-like trees, while a young one was lying down in the grass quite close to me. For some time I remained concealed, watching the full-grown pair with great interest. They had evidently just come up from the river and were slowly making their way back to their home on the escarpment. They seemed on the most affectionate terms, occasionally entwining their great long necks and gently biting each other on the shoulders. Much as I should have liked to have added a giraffe to my collection of trophies, I left them undisturbed, as I think it's a pity to shoot these rather rare and very harmless creatures unless one is required for a special purpose. We pushed on accordingly towards the escarpment, for I was very impatient to get to the top and explore a place where I felt convinced no other white man had ever set foot. From the river the ground rose gently up towards the foot of the ridge and was covered more or less densely with stunted trees and bushes, and of course the inevitable wet-a-bit thorns. I was fortunate enough however to find a rhino path which afforded a fairly comfortable and open road, on which we could walk upright the greater part of the way. The climb up the escarpment itself was a stiff one and had to be negotiated principally on all fours, but on the way up I discovered that there was an enormous cliff some miles to the right which would probably have afforded an easier ascent. I had not time to explore it on this particular day, but I made a mental note to do so on some future occasion. After a two hours journey from the river we sat panting on the summit after our scramble and surveyed the valley of the Tsarvo which lay spread out like a map about five hundred feet below us. Our home tents, the bridge, Tsarvo station and other buildings were plainly visible and the railway itself like a shining snake could be seen for many miles winding its way through the parched wilderness. Having taken a few photographs of the scene we turn and struck through the Andungu plateau. Here I found the same kind of Nika as that around Tsarvo, the only difference being that there were more green trees about. The country more over was somewhat more open and was intersected by hundreds of broad and well-beaten animal paths along which we could walk upright in comfort. I was leading the way, followed closely by Mahina and Mabruki, when suddenly we almost walked upon a lion which was lying down at the side of the path and which had probably been asleep. It gave a fierce growl and at once bounded off through the bush. But to Mabruki, who dartless recalled then the warning I had given him in fun earlier in the day, the incident appeared so alarming that he flung down his stickload of meat and fled for his life, much to the amusement of others, even the usually silent Wakumba joining in the general laughter as they scrambled for the discarded meat. We saw nothing more of the lion, though a few steps further on brought us to the remains of a zebra which he had recently killed and feasted on. But after this Mabruki kept carefully in the rear. Curiously enough, only a short while later we had an exactly similar adventure with a rhino, as owing to the tortuous nature of the path we walked right into it before we were aware. Like the lion, however, it was more frightened than we and charged away from us through the jungle. For about two hours we pursued our journey into the plateau and saw and heard a wonderful variety of game, including giraffe, rhino, bushbuck, the lesser kudu, zebra, warthog, baboons and monkeys, and any number of par, the last being of a redder color than those of the Tsar Bo Valley. Of natives or of human habitations, however, we saw no signs, and indeed the whole region was so dry and waterless as to be quite uninhabitable. The animals that require water have to make a nightly journey to and from the sabaki, which accounts for the thousands of animal paths leading from the plateau to the river. By this time we were all beginning to feel very tired, and the Behisti's stock of water was running low. I therefore climbed the highest tree I could find in order to have a good look round, but absolutely nothing could I see in any direction but the same flat, thorny wilderness, interspersed here and there with a few green trees, not a landmark of any sort as far as the eye could reach. A most hopeless, terrible place should one be lost in it, with certain death either by thirst or by savage beasts, staring one in the face. Clearly then the only thing to do was to return to the river, and in order to accomplish this before dark it was necessary that no time should be lost. But we had been winding in and out so much through the animal paths that it was no easy matter to say in which direction the sabaki lay. First I consulted my Wakamba followers as to the route back, they simply shook their heads. Then I asked Mahina, who pointed out a direction exactly opposite to that which I felt confident was the right one. Mabruki of course knew nothing, but volunteered the helpful and chairing information that we were lost and would all be killed by lions. In these circumstances I confirmed my own ideas to our way by comparing my watch and the sun, and gave the order to start at once. For about two solid hours however we trudged along in the fearful heat without striking a single familiar object or landmark. Mabruki murmured loudly, even Mahina expressed grave dances to whether the sahib had taken the right direction. Only the Wakamba stalked along in reassuring silence. For some time we had been following a broad white rhino path, and the great footmarks of one of these beasts were fresh and plainly visible in the dust. He had been travelling in the opposite direction to us, and I felt sure that he must have been returning from drinking in the river. I accordingly insisted on our keeping to this path, and very soon to my great relief we found that we were at the edge of the escarpment, a couple of miles away from the place where we had made the ascent. Here a halt was called, a sheet was spread over some of the stunted trees, and under its shade we rested for half an hour, had some food, and drank the last of our water. After this we pushed on with renewed vigor, and arrived at the sabaki in good time before sundown, having bagged a couple of guinea fowl and a pa on the way to serve for dinner. After the long and fatiguing day my bath in the clear shady pool was a real delight. But I might not have enjoyed it quite so much if I had known then of the terrible fate which awaited one of my followers in the same river the next day. By the time I got back to camp supper was ready and fully appreciated. The tireless Mahina had also collected some dry grass for my bed, and I turned in at once with my rifle handy, and slept the sleep of the just, regardless of all the wild beasts in Africa. At dawn my brookie roused me with a cup of steaming hot coffee and some biscuits, and a start was at once made on our return journey to Tsavo. The place where we had struck the sabaki the previous evening was some miles further down the stream than I had ever been before, so I decided to take advantage of the Maasai trail along its bank until the Tsavo river was reached. I did not think we should meet with any further adventure on our way home, but in the wilds the unexpected is always happening. Shortly after we started one of the Wakamba went down to the river's edge to fill his kalabash with water, when a crocodile suddenly rose up out of the stream, seized the poor fellow, and in a moment had dragged him in. I was on ahead at the time and so I did not witness the occurrence, but on hearing the cries of the others I ran back as quickly as possible, too late however, to see any sign of either crocodile or native. Mahina philosophically remarked that after all it was only a Washenzi, savage, whose loss did not much matter, and the other three Wakamba certainly did not appear to be affected by the incident, but calmly possessed themselves of their dead companion's bow and quiver of poison arrows and of the stock of meat which he had left on the bank. I have since learned that incidents of this kind are of fairly frequent occurrence along the banks of these rivers. On one occasion while I was in the country a British officer had a very lucky escape. He was filling his water bottle at the river when one of these brutes caught him by the hand and attempted to draw him in. Fortunately one of his servants rushed to his assistance and managed to pull him out of the crocodile's clutches with the loss only of two of his fingers. As we made our way up the Sabaki we discovered a beautiful waterfall about 150 feet high, not a share drop, but a series of cascades. At this time the river was in low water and the falls consequently did not look their best, but in flood time they form a fine sight and the thunder of the falling water can then be plainly heard at Sarvo over seven miles away when the wind is in the right direction. We crossed the river on the rocks and crossed the river on the rocks at the head of these falls and after some hours hard marching reached camp without further incident. There were some rocky looking hills lying to the southwest of Sarvo which I was particularly anxious to explore so on one occasion when work had been stopped off for the day owing to lack of material I set off for them accompanied by Mahina and a Punjabi Kuli who was so stout that he went by the name of Muta i.e. Fatty. In the course of my little excursions around Sarvo I gradually discovered that I was nearly always able to make my way to any required point of the compass by following certain well-defined animal paths which I mapped out bit by bit during my explorations. On this occasion for instance as soon as we had crossed the river and had struck into the jungle we were fortunate enough to find a rhino path leading in the right direction which greatly facilitated our progress. As we were making our way along this path through the dry bed of Nula I happened to notice that the sandy bottom sparkled here and there where the sun beams penetrated the dense foliage. This had once filled my head with the thoughts of precious stones and as the spot looked likely enough I started to dig vigorously at the gravel with my hunting knife. After a few minutes of this work I came across what I at first took to be a magnificent diamond sparkling in the damp sand. It was about half an inch long and its facets looked as if they had been cut by an Amsterdam expert. I tested the stone on my watch glass and found that it cut my initials quite easily and though I knew that quartz would do this as well it did not seem to me to have either the general appearance or angles of any quartz I had ever seen. For a moment or two I was greatly delighted with my discovery and began to have rosy dreams of a diamond mine but I'm sorry to say that on closer examination and testing I was forced to the conclusion that my find was not a diamond though unlike any other mineral I had ever come across. My hopes of rapidly becoming a millionaire having thus been dashed to the ground we proceeded on our way getting further and further into the depths of a gloomy forest. A little distance on I noticed through a break in the trees a huge rhino standing in full view near the edge of a ravine. Unfortunately he caught sight of us as well and before I could take aim he snorted loudly and crashed off through this hangled undergrowth. As I followed up this ravine walking stealthily along in the delightful shade of the overhanging ponds I observed on my left a little nula which opened out of the main channel through a confused mass of jungle and creeper. Through this tangle there was a well-defined archway doubtless made by the regular passage of rhino and hippo so I decided to enter and explore what lay beyond. I had not gone very far when I came upon a big bay scooped out of the bank by the stream when in flood and carpeted with a deposit of fine soft sand in which were the indistinct tracks of numberless animals. In one corner of this bay close under an overhanging tree stood a little sandy hillock and on looking over the top of this I saw on the other side a fearsome looking cave which seemed to run back for considerable distance under the rocky bank. Round the entrance and inside the cavern I was thunderstruck to find a number of human bones. With here and there a copper bangle such as the natives wear beyond all doubt the man-eaters den. In this manner and quite by accident I stumbled upon the lair of these once dreaded demons which I had spent so many days searching for through the exasperating and interminable jungle during the time when they terrorized Savo. I had no inclination to explore the gloomy depths of the interior but thinking that there might possibly still be a lioness or cub inside I fired a shot or two into the cavern through a hole in the roof. Saved for a swarm of bats nothing came out and after taking a photograph of the cave I gladly left the horrible spot thankful that the savage and insatiable brutes which once inhabited it were no longer at large. Retracing my steps to the main ravine I continued my journey along it after a little while I fancied I saw a hippo among some tall rushes growing on the bank and quickly signed a mahina in Muta to stay perfectly still. I then made a careful stalk only to discover after all my trouble that my eyes had deceived me and made me imagine a black bank in a few rushes to be a living animal. We now left the bed of the ravine and advanced along the top. This turned out to be a good move for soon we heard the galloping of a herd of some animal or other across our front. I rushed round a corner in the path a few yards ahead and crouching under the bushes saw a line of startled zebras flying past. This was the first time I had seen these beautifully marked animals in their wild state so I selected the largest and fired and as I was quite close to them he dropped in his track stone dead. When I stood over the handsome creature I was positively sorry for having killed him not so Muta however who rushed up in ecstasy and before I could stop him had cut his throat. This was done as he remarked to make the meat lawful for Muta was a devout follower of the Prophet and no true Muhammadan will eat the flesh of any animal unless the throat has been cut at the proper place and the blood allowed to flow. This custom has often caused me great annoyance for a Muhammadan followers rushing so quickly when an animal is shot and cut the head off so short that it is afterwards quite useless as a trophy. By the time the zebra was skinned darkness was fast approaching so we selected a suitable tree in which to pass the night. Under it we built a goodly fire, made some tea, and roasted a couple of quails which I had shot early in the day and which proved simply delicious. We then betook ourselves to the branches at least Mahina and I did. Muta was afraid of nothing and said he would sleep on the ground. He was not so full of courage later on however for about midnight a great rhino passed our way, winded us, and snorted so loudly that Muta scrambled in abject terror up our tree. He was as nimble as a monkey for all his stoutness and never ceased climbing until he was far above us. We both laughed heartily at his extraordinary haste to get out of danger and Mahina chafed him unmercifully. The rest of the night passed without incident and in the early morning while the boys were preparing breakfast I strolled off towards the rocky hills which I had seen from Savo and which were now only about a half a mile distant. I kept a sharp look out for game but came across nothing saved here and there a paw and a few guinea fowl. Until just as I was about halfway round the hill I saw a fine leopard lying on a rocky ledge basking in the morning sun but he was too quick for me and made off before I could get a shot. I had not approached noiselessly enough and the leopard is too wary a beast to be caught napping. Unfortunately I had no more time at my disposal in wish to explore these hills as I was anxious to resume work at Savo as soon as possible. So after breakfast we packed up the zebra skin and began retracing our steps through the jungle. It was an intensely hot day and we were all very glad when at length we reached the home camp. Most of my little trips of this sort however were made in a northerly direction towards the ever interesting athi or sabaki rivers. After a long and tiring walk through the jungle with what a pleasure it was to lie up in the friendly shelter of the rushes which lined the banks and watched the animals come down to drink all unconscious of my presence. I took several photographs of scenes of this kind but unfortunately many of the negatives were spoiled. Often too on a brilliant moonlit night have I sat on a rock out in the middle of the stream near a favorite drinking place waiting for a shot at whatever fortune might send my way how exasperating it was when the wind changed at the critical moment and gave me a way to the rhino or other animal I had sat there for hours patiently awaiting. Occasionally I would get hardly tired of my weary vigil and would wade ashore through the warm water to make my bed in the soft sand regardless of the snap-snap of the crocodiles which could plainly be heard from the deeper pools up and down the river. At the time, being new to the country, I did not realize the risks I ran, but later on, after my poor hua kamba follower had been seized and dragged under as I have already described, I learned to be much more cautious. The shortest way of reaching the athi river from Savo was to strike through the jungle in a northwesterly direction, and here there was luckily a particularly well-defined rhino path which I always made use of. I discovered it quite by accident on one occasion when I had asked some guests who were staying with me at Savo to spend a night on the banks of the river. As we were making our way slowly and painfully through the dense jungle, I came across this well-trodden path which appeared to be delayed in the direction in which I wished to go, and as I felt convinced that at any rate it would bring us to the river somewhere, I followed it with confidence. Our progress was now easy, and the track led through fairly open glades where traces of bush-buck and water-buck were numerous. Indeed, once or twice we cut glimpses of these animals as they bounded away to the shelter of the thicket, warned by the sound of our approach. In the end, as I anticipated, the old rhino path proved a true guide, for it struck the otty at an ideal spot for a camping ground, where some lofty trees close to the banks of the river gave a most grateful and refreshing shade. We had a delightful picnic, and my guests greatly enjoyed their night in the open, although one of them got rather a bad fright from a rhino which suddenly snorted close to our camp, evidently very annoyed at our intrusion on his domain. In the morning they went off as soon as it was light to try their luck along the river, while I remained in camp to see to breakfast. After an hour or more, however, they all returned empty-handed but very hungry, so when they had settled down to rest after a hearty meal, I thought I would sally forth and see if I could not meet with better success. I had gone only a short distance up the right bank of the river when I thought I observed a movement among the bushes ahead of me. On the alert, I stopped instantly, and the next moment was rewarded by seeing a splendid bush-buck advanced from the water in a most stately manner. I could only make out his head and neck above the undergrowth, but as he was only some fifty yards off, I raised my rifle to my shoulder to fire. This movement at once caught his eye, and for the fraction of a second he stopped to gaze at me, thus giving me time to aim at where I supposed his shoulder to be. When I fired, he disappeared so suddenly and so completely that I felt sure that I had missed him, and that he had made off through the bush. I therefore reloaded and advanced carefully with the intention of following up his trail. But to my unbounded delight I came upon the buck stretched out dead in his tracks, with my bullet through his heart. I lost no time in getting back to camp, the antelope swinging by his feet from a branch borne by two sturdy coollies, and my unlucky friends were very much astonished when they saw the fine bag I had secured in so short a time. The animal was soon skinned and furnished us with a delicious roast for lunch, and in the cool of the evening we made our way back to Savo without further adventure. Some little time after this, while one of these same friends, Mr. C. Rawson, happened to be again at Savo, we were sitting after dark under the veranda of my hut. I wanted something from my tent, and sent Meena, my Indian chukadir, to fetch it. He was going off in the dark to do so when I called him back and told him to take a lantern for fear of snakes. This he did, and as soon as he got to the door of the tent, which was only a dozen yards off, he galled out frantically, Arshiba Borosanpe, hi, O master, there is a big snake here. Where, I shouted, here by the bed he cried, bring the gun quickly. I seized the shotgun, which I always kept handy, and rushed to the tent, whereby the light of the lantern I saw a great red snake, about seven feet long, gazing at me from the side of my camp-bed. I instantly fired at him, cutting him clean in half at the shot. The tail part remained where it was, but the head half quickly wriggled off and disappeared in the gloom of the tent. The trail of blood, however, enabled us to track it, and we eventually found the snake, still full of fight, under the edge of the ground-sheet. He made a last vicious dart at one of the men who had run up, but was quickly given the happy dispatch by a blow on the head. Rossan now picked it up and brought it to the light. He then put his foot on the back of its head, and with a stick forced open the jaws, when suddenly we saw two perfectly clear jets of poison spurred out from the fangs. An Indian babu, clerk, who happened to be standing near, got the full benefit of this, and the poor man was so panic stricken that in a second he had torn off every atom of his clothing. We were very much amused at this, as, of course, we knew that, although the poison was exceedingly venomous, it could do no harm unless it penetrated a cut or open wound in the flesh. I never found out the name of this snake, which, as I have said, was of a dark brick-red color all over, and I only saw one other of the same kind all the time I was in East Africa. I came upon it suddenly one day when out shooting. It was evidently much startled and stood erect, hissing venomously. But I also was so much taken aback at its appearance that I did not think about shooting it until it had glided off and disappeared in the thick undergrowth. Please visit Librivox.org. Recording by Patty Cunningham. THE MAN EATERS OF SAVO by J. H. Patterson CHAPTER XV Unsuccessful Rhino-Hunts Although the jungle-round savo was a network of rhino-paths, I had never so far been successful in my efforts to obtain one of these animals, nor was my ambition yet to be realized. One day I was out exploring in the dense bush some six or seven miles away from camp, and found my progress more than usually slow, owing to the fact that I had to spend most of my time crawling on all fours through the jungle. I was very pleased, therefore, to emerge suddenly on a broad and well-beaten track along which I could walk comfortably in an upright position. In this were some fresh rhino footprints which seemed barely an hour old, so I determined to follow them up. The roadway was beaten in places into a fine white dust by the passage of many heavy animals, and as I pushed cautiously forward I fully expected to come face-to-face with a rhino at every corner I turned. After having gone a little way, I fancied that I really did see one lying at the foot of a tree some distance ahead of me, but on approaching cautiously found that it was nothing more than a great brown heap of loose earth which one of the huge beasts had raised by rolling about on the soft ground. This, however, was evidently a resting place which was regularly used, so I made up my mind to spend a night in the overhanging branches of the tree. The next afternoon, accordingly, Mahina and I made our way back to the place, and by dusk we were safely but uncomfortably perched among the branches directly over the path. We had scarcely been there an hour when to our delight we heard a great rhino plotting along the track in our direction. Unfortunately the moon had not yet risen, so I was unable to catch sight of the monster as he approached. I knew, however, that there was light enough for me to see him when he emerged from the bushes into the little clearing round the foot of our tree. Nearer and nearer we heard him coming steadily on, and I had my rifle ready, pointing it in the direction in which I expected his head to appear. But alas, just at that moment, the wind veered round and blew straight from us towards the rhino, who scented us immediately, gave a mighty snort, and then dived madly away through the jungle. For some considerable time we could hear him crashing ponderously through everything that came in his way, and he must have gone a long distance before he recovered from his fright and slowed down to his usual pace. At any rate we neither heard nor saw anything more of him, and spent a wakeful and uncomfortable night for nothing. My next attempt to bag a rhino took place some months later on the banks of the Sabaki, and was scarcely more successful. I had come down from Savo in the afternoon, accompanied by Mahina, and finding a likely tree within a few yards of the river and with fresh footprints under it, I had once decided to take up my position for the night in its branches. Mahina preferred to sit where he could take a comfortable nap, and wedged himself in a fork of the tree some little way below me, but still some eight or ten feet from the ground. It was a calm and perfect night, such as can be seen only in the tropics. Everything looked mysteriously beautiful in the glorious moonlight, and stood out like a picture looked at through a stereoscope. From my perch among the branches I watched first a water-buck come to drink in the river, then a bush-buck. Later a tiny paw emerged from the bushes and paused at every step with one graceful forefoot poised in the air, thoroughly on the alert and looking round carefully and nervously for any trace of a possible enemy. At length it reached the brink of the river in safety and stooped to drink. Just then I saw a jackal come up on its trail and began carefully to stalk it, not even rustling a fallen leaf in its stealthy advance on the poor little antelope. All of a sudden, however, the jackal stopped dead for a second, and then made off out of sight as fast as ever he could go. I looked round to discover the cause of this hurried exit, and to my surprise saw a large and very beautiful leopard crouching down and moving noiselessly in the direction of our tree. At first I thought it must be stalking some animal on the ground below us, but I soon realized that it was Mahina that the brute was intent on. Whether if left to himself the leopard would actually have made a spring at my sleeping gun bearer I do not know, but I had no intention of letting him have a chance of even attempting this, so I cautiously raised my rifle and leveled it at him. Absolutely noiseless as I was in doing this, he noticed it, possibly a glint of moonlight on the barrel caught his eye, and immediately disappeared into the bush before I could get in a shot. I at once woke Mahina and made him come up to more secure quarters beside me. For a long time after this nothing disturbed our peace, but at last the quarry I had hoped for made his appearance on the scene. Just below us there was an opening in the elephant grass which lined the river's edge, and through this the broad stream shone like silver in the moonlight. Without warning this gap was suddenly filled by a huge black mass, a rhino making his way very leisurely out of the shallow water. On he came with a slow, ponderous tread, combining a certain stateliness with his awkward strides, almost directly beneath us, he halted and stood for an instant, clearly exposed to our view. This was my opportunity. I took careful aim at his shoulder and fired. Instantly and with extraordinary rapidity, the huge beast whirled round like a pegged top, whereupon I fired again. This time I expected him to fall, but instead of that I had the mortification of seeing him rush off into the jungle and of hearing him crash through it like a great steamroller for several minutes. I consoled myself by thinking that he could not go far as he was hard hit, and that I should easily find him when daylight arrived. Mejina, who was in a wild state of excitement over the bourgeois noir, great animal, was also of this opinion, and as there was no longer any reason for silence he chatted to me about many strange and curious things until the gray dawn appeared. When we got down from our perch we found the track of the wounded rhino clearly marked by great splashes of blood, and for a couple of miles the spore could thus be easily followed. At length, however, it got fainter and fainter, and finally ceased altogether so that we had to abandon the search. The ground round about was rocky, and there was no possibility of telling which way our quarry had gone. I was exceedingly sorry for this as I did not like to leave him wounded, but there was no help for it, so we struck out for home and arrived at Savo in the afternoon very tired, hungry, and disappointed. Rhinos are extraordinary animals, and not in any way to be depended upon. One day they will shear off on meeting a human being and make no attempt to attack. The next day, for no apparent reason, they may execute a most determined charge. I was told for a fact by an official who had been long in the country that on one occasion while a gang of twenty-one slaves chained neck to neck, as was the custom, was being smuggled down to the coast and was proceeding in Indian file along a narrow path, a rhinoceros suddenly charged out at right angles to them, impaled the sinner man on its horns, and broke the necks of the remainder of the party by the suddenness of his rush. These huge beasts have a very keen sense of smell, but equally indifferent eyesight, and it is said that if a hunter will only stand perfectly still on meeting a rhino, it will pass him by without attempting to molest him. I fail bound to add, however, that I have so far failed to come across anybody who has actually tried the experiment. On the other hand, I have met one or two men who have been tossed on the horns of these animals, and they describe it as a very painful proceeding. It generally means being a cripple for life if one even succeeds in escaping death. Mr. B Eastwood, the chief accountant of the Uganda Railway, once gave me a graphic description of his marvelous escape from an infuriated rhino. He was on leave at the time on a hunting expedition in the neighborhood of Lake Baringo, about eighty miles north of the railway from Nakuru, and had shot and apparently killed a rhino. On walking up to it, however, the brute rose to its feet and literally fell on him, breaking four ribs and his right arm. Not content with this, it then stuck its horn through his thigh and tossed him over its back, repeating this operation once or twice. Finally it lumbered off, leaving poor Eastwood helpless in fainting in the long grass where he had fallen. He was alone at the time, and it was not for some hours that he was found by his porters, who were only attracted to the spot by the numbers of vultures hovering about, waiting in their ghoulish manner for life to be extinct before beginning their meal. How he managed to live for the eight days after this, which elapsed before a doctor could be got to him, I cannot imagine, but in the end he fortunately made a good recovery, the only sign of his terrible experience being the absence of his right arm which had to be amputated. The Manators of Savile by J. H. Patterson Chapter 16 A Widow's Story Very shortly before I left Savile, I went, on March 11th, 1899, on inspection duty to Voi, which, as I have already mentioned, is about 30 miles on the Mombasa side of Savile. At this time it was a miserable, swampy spot where fever, guinea worm and all kinds of horrible diseases were rampant, but this state of affairs has now been completely altered by drainage and by clearing away the jungle. Dr. Rose was in medical charge of the place at the time of my visit, and as it was the good old custom to put up with any friend who came across towards nightfall, I made him my host when my day's work was over. We spent a very pleasant evening together and naturally discussed all the local news. Among other things, we chatted about the new road which was being constructed from Voi to a rather important missionary station called Savita, near Mount Kilimanjaro, and Dr. Rose mentioned that Mr. Ohara, the engineer in charge of the road making, with his wife and children was encamped in the Vataita country, about 12 miles away from Voi. Early next morning, I went out for a stroll with my shotgun, but had not gone far from the doctor's tent when I saw in the distance for Swahili carrying something which looked like a stretcher along the newly made road. Fearing that some accident had happened, I went quickly to meet them and called out to ask what they were carrying. They shouted back, Buana, the master, and when I asked what Buana, they replied, Buana Ohara. On inquiring what exactly had happened, they told me that during the night their master had been killed by a lion and that his wife and children were following behind along the road. At this I directed the men to the hospital and told them where to find Dr. Rose, and without waiting to hear any further particulars, hurried on as fast as possible to give what assistance I could to poor Mrs. Ohara. Some considerable way back, I met her toiling along with an infant in her arms, while a little child held on to her skirt, utterly tired out with the long walk. I helped her to finish the distance to the doctor's tent. She was so unstrong by her terrible night's experience and so exhausted by her trying march, carrying the baby that she was scarcely able to speak. Dr. Rose at once did all he could both for her and for the children, the mother being given a sleeping draft and made comfortable in one of the tents. When she appeared again late in the afternoon, she was much refreshed and was able to tell us the following dreadful story, which I shall give as nearly as possible in her own words. We were all asleep in the tent, my husband and I in one bed and my two children in another. The baby was feverish and restless, so I got up to give her something to drink. And as I was doing so, I heard what I thought was a lion walking round the tent. I at once worked my husband and told him I felt sure there was a lion about. He jumped up and went out, taking his gun with him. He looked round the outside of the tent and spoke to the Swahili Askari, who was on sentry by the campfire a little distance off. The Askari said he had seen nothing about except a donkey, so my husband came in again, telling me not to worry as it was only a donkey that I had heard. The night being very hot, my husband threw back the tent door and lay down again beside me. After a while, I dozed off, but was suddenly roused by a feeling as if the pillow were being pulled away from under my head. On looking round, I saw that my husband was gone. I jumped up and called him loudly, but got no answer. Just then, I heard a noise among the boxes outside the door, so I rushed out and saw my poor husband lying between the boxes. I ran up to him and tried to lift him, but found I could not do so. I then called to the Askari to come and help me, but he refused, saying that there was a lion standing beside me. I looked up and saw the huge beast glowering at me, not more than two yards away. At this moment, the Askari fired his rifle, and this fortunately frightened the lion, for it at once jumped off into the bush. All four Askaris then came forward and lifted my husband back onto the bed. He was quite dead. We had hardly got back into the tent before the lion returned and prowled about in front of the door, showing every intention of springing in to recover his prey. The Askaris fired at him, but did no damage beyond frightening him away again for a moment or two. He soon came back and continued to walk round the tent until daylight, growling and purring, and it was only by firing through the tent every now and then that we kept him out. At daybreak, he disappeared, and I had my husband's body carried here while I followed with the children until I met you. Such was Mrs. Ohara's pitiful story. The only comfort we could give her was to assure her that her husband had died instantly and without pain. For, while she had been resting, Dr. Rose had made a post-mortem examination of the body, and had come to this conclusion. He found that Ohara had evidently been lying on his back at the time and that the lion, seizing his head in its mouth, had closed its long tusks through his temples until they met again in the brain. We buried him before nightfall in a peaceful spot close by, the doctor reading the funeral service while I assisted in lowering the rude coffin into the grave. It was the saddest scene imaginable. The weeping widow, the wondering faces of the children, the gathering gloom of the closing evening, the dusky forms of a few natives who had gathered round, all combined to make a most striking and solemn ending to a very terrible tragedy of real life. I'm glad to say that within a few weeks' time the lion that was responsible for this tragedy was killed by a poisoned arrow shot from a treetop by one of the wat-aita. Read by Sally McConnell in Betty's Bay, South Africa in February 2010. The Man Eaters of Tsavo by J. H. Patterson Chapter 17 An Infuriated Rhino My work at Tsavo was finished in March 1899 when I received instructions to proceed to Railhead and take charge of a section of the work there. For many reasons I was sorry to say goodbye to Tsavo where I had spent an eventful year, but all the same I was very glad to be given this new post, as I knew that there would be a great deal of interesting work to be done and a constant change of camp and scene as the lion progressed onward to the interior. In good spirits, therefore, I set out for my new headquarters on March 28. By this time Railhead had reached a place called Makakos Road, some 276 miles from Mombasa and within a few miles of the great Appi Plains, the latter being treeless and mortalous expanses bare of everything except grass, which the great herds of game kept closely cropped. After leaving Tsavo, the character of the country remains unaltered for some considerable distance, the lion continuing to run through the Thorninika and it is not until Makindu is reached, about 200 miles from the coast, that a change is apparent. From this place, however, the journey lies through a fairly open and interesting tract of country, where game of all kinds abounds and can be seen grazing peacefully within a few hundred yards of the railway. On the way I was lucky enough to get some fine views of Kilimanjaro, the whole mountain from base to summit standing out clearly and grandly, with the lofty peak of Kibo topping the fleecy clouds with its snowy head. At Makakos road I found the country and the climate very different from that to which I had grown accustomed at Tsavo. Here I could see for miles across stretches of beautiful open downs, timbered here and there, like an English park and it was a great relief to be able to overlook a wide tract of country and to feel that I was no longer hemmed in on all sides by the interminable and depressing Thorni wilderness. As Makakos road is some 4,000 feet higher above the sea level than Tsavo, the difference in temperature was also very marked and the air felt fresh and cool compared with that of the sunbaked valley in which I had spent the previous year. My instructions were to hurry on the construction of the line as far as possible to Nairobi, the proposed headquarters of the railway administration which lay about 50 miles further on across the Afi plains, and I soon began to find plate laying most interesting work. Everything has to move as if by clockwork. First the earth's surface has to be prepared and rendered perfectly smooth and level, cuttings have to be made and hollows banked up, tunnels have to be bored through hills and bridges thrown across rivers. Then a line of coulis moves along, placing sleepers at regular intervals. Another gang drops the rails in their places, yet another brings along the keys, fish plates, bolts and nuts, while following these are the men who actually fix the rails on the sleepers and link up from one to another. Finally the packing gang finishes the work by filling in earth and ballast under and around the steel sleepers to give them the necessary grip and rigidity. Some days we were able to lay only a few yards, while on other days we might do over a mile, all depended on the nature of the country we had to cover. On one occasion we succeeded in breaking the record for a day's plate laying and were gratified at receiving a telegram of congratulation from the railway committee at the foreign office. I made it my custom to take a walk each morning for some distance ahead of rails along the centre line of the railway in order to spy out the land and to form a rough estimate of the material that would be required in the way of sleepers, girders for temporary bridges etc. It was necessary to do this in order to avoid undue delay taking place owing to shortage of material of any kind. About 10 days after my arrival at Makakos Road I walked in this way for five or six miles ahead of the last laid rail. It was rather unusual for me to go so far and as it happened I was alone on this occasion Mahina having been left behind in camp. About two miles away on my left I noticed a dark looking object and thinking it was an ostrich I started off towards it. Very soon however I found that it was bigger game than an ostrich and on getting so nearer made up the form of a great rhinoceros lying down. I continued to advance very cautiously wriggling through the short grass until at length I got within 50 yards of where the huge beast was resting. Here I lay and watched him but after some little time he evidently suspected my presence. For rising to his feet he looked straight in my direction and then proceeded to walk round me in the half circle. The moment he got wind of me he whipped round in his tracks like a cat and came for me in a beeline. Hoping to turn him I fired instantly but unfortunately my soft nose bullets merely annoyed him further and had not the slightest effect on his thick hide. On seeing this I flung myself down quite flat on the grass and threw my helmet some 10 feet away in the hope that he would perceive it and vent his rage on it instead of me. On he thundered while I scarcely dared to breathe I could hear him snorting and rooting up the grass quite close to me but luckily for me he did not catch sight of me and charged by a few yards to my left. As soon as he had passed me my courage began to revive again and I could not resist the temptation of sending a couple of bullets after him. These however simply cracked against his hide and splinted to pieces on it sending the dry mud off in little clouds of dust. Their only real effect indeed was to make him still more angry. He stood stock still for a moment and then gawd the ground most viciously and started off once more on the semi-circle around me. This proceeding terrified me more than ever as I felt sure that he would come upwind at me again and I could scarcely hope to escape a second time. Unfortunately my semias proved correct for directly he scented me up went his nose in the air and down he charged like a battering ram. I fairly pressed myself into the ground as flat as ever I could and luckily the grass was a few inches high. I felt the thud of his great feet pounding along yet dared not move or look up lest he should see me. My heart was thumping like a steam hammer and every moment I fully expected to find myself tossed in the air. Nearer and nearer came the heavy thudding and I had quite given myself up for lost when from my lying position I caught sight out of the corner of my eye of the infuriated beast rushing by. He had missed me again. I never felt so relieved in my life and assuredly did not attempt to annoy him further. He went off for good this time and it was with great satisfaction that I watched him gradually disappear in the distance. I could not have believed it possible that these huge ungainly looking brutes could move so rapidly and turn and twist in their tracks just like monkeys had I not actually seen this one do so before my eyes. If he had found me he would certainly have pounded me to atoms as he was an old bull and in a most furious and vicious mood. One day when Dr. Brock and I were out shooting shortly after this incident and not far from where it occurred we caught sight of two rhinos and a hollow some little distance from us and commenced to stalk them taking advantage of every fold of the ground in doing so and keeping about 50 yards apart in case of a charge. In that event one or other of us would be able to get a broadside shot which would probably roll the beast over. Proceeding carefully in this manner we managed to get within about 60 yards of them and as it was my turn for a shot I took aim at the larger of the two just as it was moving its great head from one side to the other wondering which of us it ought to attack. When it lasted decided upon Brock it gave me the chance I'd been waiting for I fired instantly at the hollow between neck and shoulder. The brute dropped at once and save for one or two convulsive kicks of its stumpy legs as it lay half on its back it never moved again. The second Rhino proved to be a well grown youngster which showed considerable fight as we attempted to approach its fallen comrade. We did not want to kill it and accordingly spent about two hours in shouting and throwing stones at it before at last we succeeded in driving it away. We then proceeded to skin our prize this as may be imagined proved rather a tough job but we managed it in the end and the trophy was well worth the pens I had taken to add it to my collection. End of chapter 17.