always the same : " Your dog attacked the baboon. 

 I can't help it." Sometimes the dogs were rescued 

 by their owners ; but many were killed. To its 

 native cunning this brute added all the tricks that 

 experience had taught, sometimes hiding up in its 

 box to induce the dog to come sniffing close up ; 

 sometimes grubbing in the sand for food, pretending 

 not to see the intruder until he was well within reach ; 

 sometimes running back in feigned alarm to draw him 

 on. Once it got a grip the baboon threw itself on its 

 side or back and, with all four feet holding the dog 

 off, tore lumps out of the helpless animal. A plucky 

 dog that would try to make a fight of it had no chance ; 

 the only hope was to get away, if possible. 



Not every baboon is a fighter like this, but in almost 

 every troop there will be at least one terrible old fellow, 

 and the biggest, strongest and fiercest always dominate 

 and lead the others ; and their hostility and audacity 

 are such that they will loiter behind the retreating 

 troop and face a man on foot or on horseback, slowly 

 and reluctantly giving way, or sometimes moving 

 along abreast, a hostile escort, giving loud roars of 

 defiance and hoarse challenges as though ready on the 

 least provocation or excuse to charge. It is not a 

 pleasant position for an unarmed man, as at the first 

 move or call from the leader the whole troop would 

 come charging down again. It is not actual danger 

 that impresses one, but the uncanny effect of the short 

 defiant roars, the savage half-human look of the repul- 

 sive creatures, their still more human methods of 

 facial expression and threatening attitudes, their tactics 

 247 



