152 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA 
be entitled ‘Murdered from Marmalade,’ or ‘The Jam 
that Jerked him to Jesus’.” 
Tarlton was the best game shot I have ever known. 
We had gone out together on one occasion to get 
meat for dinner when we sighted a Thompson’s ga- 
zelle at a distance of 225 yards. 
“Let me try my new Rigby on Tommie,” Tarlton 
said, as he drew a bead on the centre of the gazelle’s 
chest. When we reached the antelope and found the 
bullet one inch below where he expected it, he re- 
marked that he had suspected that his rifle was not 
accurately sighted. This was no conceit on his part. 
He expected to place his bullet exactly where he 
wished and if his gun was accurately sighted he rarely 
missed. 
Tarlton’s first lion was shot about this time. The 
lion had charged his friend and with his front paws 
on the man’s shoulder, and his mouth open, was 
reaching for the man’s head when Tarlton pulled 
the trigger fifty yards away. The friend escaped 
without a scratch. 
In the conduct of his business in Nairobi, Tarlton 
must have come in contact with all sorts of men, for 
there are sportsmen and so-called sportsmen of all 
shades and degrees. ‘There is the man who goes over 
keen to get a representative head of every species of 
game animal. No one can take exception to him 
while there is plenty of game left. On the other 
hand, there is the man who hunts for record heads 
and with him I have little patience. One man came 
into camp in Somaliland who, although he never shot 
