AN OSTRICH FARM AT MACHAKOS. 163 



at their backs and sides these solid ramparts and 

 face westward the immensities of space. For 

 Kapiti goes on over the edge of the world to 

 unknown, unguessed regions, rolling and troubled 

 like a sea. And from that unknown, on very 

 still days, the snowy peak of Kilimanjaro peers 

 out, sketched as faintly against the sky as a soap 

 bubble wafted upward and about to disappear. 

 Here and there on the plains kopjes stand like 

 islands, their stone tops looking as though 

 thrust through the smooth prairie surface from 

 beneath. To them meandered long, narrow 

 ravines full of low brush, like thin, wavering 

 streaks of gray. On these kopjes each of which 

 had its name and in these ravines we were to 

 hunt lions. 



We began the ascent of the cone on which 

 dwelt our hosts. It was one of those hills that 

 seem in no part steep, and yet which finally 

 succeed in raising one to a considerable height. 

 We passed two ostrich herds in charge of savages, 

 rode through a scattered native village, and so 

 came to the farm itself, situated on the very 

 summit. 



The house consisted of three large circular huts, 

 thatched neatly with papyrus stalks, and with 

 conical roofs. These were arranged as a triangle, 



