MY SOMALI BOOK 19 



me this fine fellow inevitably betrayed his humble 

 origin. Whether in his walk, his flight, his attitudes, 

 his general behaviour, or his language, once a myna 

 always a myna. And yet, if I only knew, he has pro- 

 bably even dropped the old family * name, for fear of 

 calling to mind the tinned grasshoppers that paid his 

 tailor's bills ! I think I like old John Company Myna best. 

 Another familiar acquaintance was the drongo — 

 the Indian king-crow — who don't care nothing for 

 nobody, but sits on the donkey's back encouraging 

 that placid creature to flush its rider's insect prey as 

 effectively as ever two-legged beater flushed quail for 

 Master. Then a discordant scream of rage, and the 

 glossy black plumage and long forked tail flash in the 

 sunlight as we turn to see what has evoked the sudden 

 outburst of wrath. Among the thicker trees vanishes 

 the silent shape of a dark grey buzzard, and the little 

 champion returns from his pursuit in triumph. The 

 king-crow is a pal of mine, though his usual discordant 

 note is the reverse of musical. 



They told me that Mandera was a good place for 

 leopards : it was not long before I had evidence of 

 the fact. A not inconsiderable acquaintance in India 

 with the leopard (or panther as we call him there) has 

 impressed me with a decided respect for his character 

 and abilities, and this my meetings with his African 

 brother have not decreased. 



Tracking down a light-footed beast like a leopard 

 in the Somali hills is, from the nature of the country, 

 a more than difflcult undertaking. It is usually, 

 moreover, impossible to obtain a sufficiency of beaters 



* Acridotheres — Grasshopper-hunter, 



