ON AN EAST AFRICAN RANCH 35 



of them, the warlike Masai, are in no way formidable as 

 our Indians were formidable when they went on the war- 

 path. The ranch country I first visited was in what was 

 once the domain of the Wakamba, and in the greater part 

 of it the tribes still dwell. They are in most ways primitive 

 savages, with an imperfect and feeble social, and therefore 

 military, organization; they live in small communities under 

 their local chiefs; they file their teeth, and though they wear 

 blankets in the neighborhood of the whites, these blankets 

 are often cast aside; even when the blanket is worn, it is often 

 in such fashion as merely to accentuate the otherwise abso- 

 lute nakedness of both sexes. Yet these savages are cattle- 

 keepers and cattle-raisers, and the women do a good deal of 

 simple agricultural work; unfortunately, they are waste- 

 fully destructive of the forests. The chief of each little vil- 

 lage is recognized as the official headman by the British 

 official, is given support, and is required to help the authori- 

 ties keep peace and stamp out cattle disease the two most 

 important functions of government so far as the Wakamba 

 themselves are concerned. All the tribes have their herds 

 of black, brown, and white goats, of mottled sheep, and 

 especially of small humped cattle. The cattle form their 

 pride and joy. During the day each herd is accompanied 

 by the herdsmen, and at night it is driven within its boma, 

 or circular fence of thorn-bushes. Except for the milk, 

 which they keep in their foul, smoky calabashes, the natives 

 really make no use of their cattle; they do not know how 

 to work them, and they never eat them even in time of 

 starvation. When there is prolonged drought and conse- 

 quent failure of crops, the foolish creatures die by the hun- 

 dreds when they might readily be saved if they were willing 



