410 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES. 



Poor Memba Sasa ! this was almost the only 

 day he had not followed close at my heels, and 

 on this day we had captured the Great Prize. 

 No thought of that seemed to affect the hearti- 

 ness of his joy. He rushed up to shake both my 

 hands ; he examined the kudu with an attention 

 that was held only by great restraint ; he let 

 go that restrain to shake me again enthusiastic- 

 ally by the hands. After him, up the hill, 

 bobbed slowly the lanterns. The smiling bearers 

 shouldered the trophy and the meat, and we 

 stumbled home through the half shadows and 

 the opalescences of the moonlight. 



Our task in this part of the country was now 

 finished. We set out on the return journey. 

 The weather changed. A beautiful, bright-copper 

 sunset was followed by a drizzle. By morning 

 this had turned into a heavy rain. We left 

 the topi camp, to which we had by now returned, 

 cold and miserable. C. and I had contributed 

 our waterproofs to protect the precious trophies, 

 and we were speedily wet through. The grass was 

 long. This was no warm and grateful tropical 

 rain, but a driving, chilling storm straight out 

 from the high mountains. 



We marched up the long plain, we turned to 

 the left around the base of the ranges, we mounted 



