310 AFRICAN GAME TRAILS 



away, behind a thorn-tree, and began to move jerkily and 

 abruptly to and fro, gazing toward us. "Oh, you malev- 

 olent old idiot!'* I muttered, facing it with rifle cocked; 

 then, as it did not charge, I added to Cuninghame, "Well, 

 I guess it will let us by, all right." And let us by it did. 

 We were anxious not to shoot it, both because in a country 

 with no settlers a rhino rarely does harm, and I object to 

 anything like needless butchery, and furthermore because 

 we desired to avoid alarming the buffalo. Half a mile far- 

 ther on we came on the latter, apparently past their fright. 

 We looked them carefully over with our glasses; the wounded 

 one was evidently not much hurt, and therefore I did not 

 wish to kill her, for I did not need another cow; and there 

 was no adult bull. So we did not molest them; and after 

 a while they got our wind and went off at a lumbering gal- 

 lop. Returning to the dead cow, we found the skin ready 

 and marched back to camp, reaching it just as the moon 

 rose, at seven; we had been away thirteen hours, with 

 nothing to eat and only the tepid water in our canteens to 

 drink. 



We were in the country of the Samburu, and several of 

 their old men and warriors visited us at this camp. They 

 are cattle-owning nomads like the Masai; but in addition 

 to cattle, sheep, and goats they own herds of camels, which 

 they milk but do not use as beasts of burden. In features 

 they are more like Somalis than negroes. 



Near this camp was the remains of the boma or home 

 camp of Arthur Neuman, once the most famous elephant 

 hunter between the Tana and Lake Rudolf. Neuman, 

 whose native name was Nyama Yango, was a strange 

 moody man who died by his own hand. He was a mighty 



