274 THE GUASO NYERO [ch. xi 



gun-bearer, was a Swahili, quite fearless with dangerous 

 game, rather sullen, and innnoved by any emotion that 

 1 could ever discover. He spoke a little English, but 

 it could not be called idiomatic. One day we saw two 

 ostriches, a cock and a hen, with their chicks, and 

 Bakhari, with some excitement, said, " Look, sah ! 

 ostrich ! bull, cow, and pups !" The other gun-bearer, 

 Gouvimali, in some ways an even better hunter, and 

 always good-tempered, knew but one English phrase ; 

 regularly every afternoon or evening, after cleaning the 

 rifle he had carried, he would say, as he left the tent, 

 his face M^-eathed in smiles, " G-o-o-d-e-bye !" Gouvi- 

 mali was a Wakamba, as were Simba and my other sais, 

 M'nyassa, who had taken the place of Hamisi (Hamisi 

 had broken down in health, his legs, as he assured me, 

 becoming " very sick "). The cook, Roberti, was a 

 mission boy, a Christian. We had several Christians 

 with the safari, one being a headman, and all did 

 excellently. I mention this because one so often hears 

 it said that mission boys turn out worthless. Most of 

 our men were heathens ; and of course many, both of the 

 Christians and tlie Mohammedans, were rather thinly 

 veneered with the religions they respectively professed. 

 When in the morning we started on our hunt, my 

 gun-bearers and sais, and the skinners, if any were 

 along, walked silently behind me, on the lookout for 

 game. Returning, they were apt to get in front, to 

 pilot me back to camp. If, as at this time was gene- 

 rally the case, we returned with our heads bent to the 

 rushing rain, they trudged sturdily ahead in dripping 

 silence. If the weather was clear the spirits of the 

 stalwart fellows were sure to rise until they found some 

 expression. The Wakamba might break into song ; or 

 they might all talk together in Swahili, recounting the 



