38 THE ODYSSEY OF AN ANIMAL COLLECTOR 
and I was anything but happy cycling through dense jungle with- 
out a light or a gun. I kept thinking that my silent mode of 
progression would land me on top of some carnivorous beast 
before it was aware of my presence, and so attack me in self- 
defense. Several times I disturbed something, probably bushbuck, 
which crashed away into the jungle, and each time a shudder 
went up my spine. Krantz had one of his cattle killed by a lion 
quite close to the house only the night before, so perhaps it was 
the thought of this that gave me a slight attack of the jitters. 
When I eventually arrived home I was greatly relieved, but not 
more so than Krantz. At the sight of the bottle he brightened up 
as if touched by a magic wand, and after a few liberal drafts of 
the heavenly nectar, he beamed once more and by morning the 
cure was complete. The neighbor in question had informed me 
that this would be so, and was rather amused at the idea of my 
cycling all that distance merely to raise Krantz out of his state 
of depression. 
Some weeks later he had to go to Vila Pery on business, and 
this again put him in a wonderful humor. He set off by ox-wagon 
and was supposed to be back three or four days later, but evidently 
the temptations of civilization proved too much for him, for days 
went by with still no word of Krantz. From the beginning I had 
to take over the management of the farm myself, and besides all 
the livestock to look after, there were about twenty natives who 
had to be allotted their daily tasks and issued their rations of 
maize meal. At the end of three weeks he returned quite happy 
and unrepenting. 
Two days later I said a sad good-by to Krantz as I was due to 
catch the boat at Beira for England. I had spent three months 
with him and had amassed a really fine collection of birds, con- 
sisting of Cinnamon Rollers, Purple-crested Touracos, Robin- 
chats, Water Thick-knees, Gray-headed Bush-shrikes and Peters’ 
Spotted Waxbills—to mention a few of the rarer species. Krantz 
was one of those rough diamonds with a lovable character, and 
although he had certain weaknesses, his heart was of gold. I had 
sometimes mentioned my mother to him, and as I left he handed 
me, with obvious emotion, a huge native-made earthenware pot 
full of delicious wild honey, remarking, “Please give this to your 
