Big Game Shooting 



I turned round suddenly and descended a step 

 or two. A mechanically-lit cigarette, a seat on 

 the ground with my back to the rock and my feet 

 in the grass, and I forgot the world. 



Immediately, peace, perfect peace ! The 

 ''Peace of Africa!' A peace which no one 

 knows who has not been to see. 



But I saw a sight that made me stare with 

 wonder and amazement, whilst taking in the 

 scene. 



Framed in a deep blue sky, so clear and 

 gradually turning into pale turquoise and shaded 

 green on the horizon, the whole split into rays of 

 pink with the after-glow (wonderful rays ! right 

 up into the heavens !), towered the snow-capped 

 head of Kilimanjaro, the blue and purple of its 

 lower slopes set off by a brick-red bank of clouds 

 behind and in the far distance. I saw this 

 wonderful spectacle, this everlasting sign of 

 nature's stormy moments, this monument set up 

 to outlast ages and cycles to come, a huge mass 

 that told me of fire and smoke — of earthquakes, 

 tremblings and thunderous salutes from the 

 hidden batteries of volcanic artillery discharged 

 in the making of it. It told me of all this, and 

 in the telling, its peaks were slowly changing — 

 quite slowly ! White, yellow, yellow, orange — 

 rosy-red, redder, pale crimson — cold blue white ! 

 The sun had gone to rest. 



If possible more imposing than ever, the 



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