Big Game Shooting 



that liquid avalanche was upon us. To show how 

 deep it was and the pace at which the water was 

 travelling, I may state that it caught me high up 

 on the chest, and before I had time to think we 

 were all swept off our feet and carried helplessly 

 along with it. We went for some distance before 

 a slight unevenness of the rocks allowed us to 

 scramble up, when, to my joy, I found that my 

 orderlies, although badly scared, had not let go 

 of my rifles or anything. It would have been 

 somewhat excusable if they had, for the Masai 

 cannot bear running water, and are in reality 

 rather afraid of it. 



In due course we arrived at our destination, 

 Lanjoro Dis. Our camp was formed on the top of 

 a flat spur sticking out of the mountain, covered 

 with shady flat-topped thorn trees, and affording 

 a beautiful view of hill and dale. All around us 

 were lower peaks of the same range, thickly 

 covered with grass and shrubs, with thorn trees 

 poking their heads up at intervals. Towards the 

 south, through a gap in the chain of hills, we 

 could see in the far distance Arusia Mountain, in 

 German territory, the pointed peak of which is 

 snow-clad at this time of the year. Some ten 

 miles away stretched Lake Natron, a soda lake, 

 with Ngai Volcano, which is still active, at the 

 end of it, also belonging to our Teuton neigh- 

 bours. These lakes, I should explain, are of 

 volcanic origin. On approaching them a thick 



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