216 STALKS ABROAD 



dashed off in the direction of the sound, hoping for a 

 shot. I and Hassan were standing by a tree listening 

 when I noticed a Masai we had as guide squinting 

 horribly (though this was habitual), and running 

 towards us. We signed to him to stop, but he came 

 on, wearing a sheepish grin, and shinned up a small 

 tree, where his squint if possible became even more 

 pronounced. Directly afterwards four buffalo came 

 crashing past. They pulled up dead in a cloud of 

 dust within a few yards of us and then dashed off at 

 right angles. One was a bull but he had a poor 

 head. 



It was on 21st March that my desires were 

 realised. I told Noah to call me at 3.45 so that 

 we could catch the buffalo going into the wood, 

 which they always did at the first streaks of light. 

 He made a mistake, and it was not until an hour later 

 that we left camp. 



Somewhere out in the East the birth of a new day 

 was tremulously stirring. Before she sank beneath a 

 low range of hills the pale yellow moon silvered a 

 few tiny long-drawn clouds. Down in the swamp a 

 pessimistic old bull-frog hoarsely stated his opinion to 

 the awakening world, that life was a horrid bore ! 

 An unseen chorus echoed and reiterated his statement. 

 As the first faint pink flush against whose delicate 

 purity the tops of the thorn-bushes and mimosas were 

 softly etched grew stronger, birds, until then silent in 

 the shadowy thickets, began to twitter and call. We 

 reached the top of the hill, and Kenia showed a faint, 



