ACROSS THE THIRST. 311 



a rhinoceros, one bush-buck and a dozen harte- 

 beeste. African game, as a general rule, avoids 

 a country where the grass grows very high. 

 We enjoyed, however, some bold and wonderful 

 mountain scenery, and obtained glimpses through 

 the flying murk of the vast plains and the base of 

 Suswa. On a precipitous canon cliff we found 

 a hanging garden of cactus and of looped cactus- 

 like vines that was a marvel to behold. We ran 

 across the hartebeeste on our way home. Our 

 men were already out of meat; the hartebeeste of 

 yesterday had disappeared. These porters are a 

 good deal like the old-fashioned Michigan lumber- 

 jacks they take a good deal of feeding for the 

 first few days. When we came upon the little 

 herd in the neck-high grass, I took a shot. At 

 the report the animal went down flat. We 

 wandered over slowly. Memba Sasa whetted his 

 knife and walked up. Thereupon Mr. Harte- 

 beeste jumped to his feet, flirted his tail gaily, 

 and departed. We followed him a mile or so, 

 but he got stronger and gayer every moment, 

 until at last he frisked out of the landscape quite 

 strong and hearty. In all my African experi- 

 ence I lost only six animals hit by bullets, as I 

 took infinite pains and any amount of time to 

 hunt down wounded beasts. This animal was, 



