ON AN EAST AFRICAN RANCH 57 



several occasions I saw francolins and spurfowl cut down 

 on the wing by a throwing-stick hurled from some un- 

 usually dexterous hand. 



The beats, with the noise and laughter of the good-hu- 

 mored, excitable savages, and the alert interest as to what 

 would turn up next, were great fun; but the days I enjoyed 

 most were those spent alone with my horse and gun-bearers. 

 We might be off by dawn, and see the tropic sun flame 

 splendid over the brink of the world; strange creatures 

 rustled through the bush or fled dimly through the long 

 grass, before the light grew bright; and the air was fresh 

 and sweet as it blew in our faces. When the still heat of 

 noon drew near I would stop under a tree, with my water 

 canteen and my lunch. The men lay in the shade, and the 

 hobbled pony grazed close by, while I either dozed or else 

 watched through my telescope the herds of game lying 

 down or standing drowsily in the distance. As the shadows 

 lengthened I would again mount, and finally ride home- 

 ward as the red sunset paled to amber and opal, and all 

 the vast, mysterious African landscape grew to wonderful 

 beauty in the dying twilight. 



