THE GUASO NYERO 311 



hunter, of bold and adventure-loving temper. With whites 

 he was unsocial, living in this far-off region exactly like a 

 native, and all alone among the natives; living in some 

 respects too much like a native. But, from the native stand- 

 point, and without making any effort to turn the natives 

 into anything except what they were, he did them good, 

 and left a deep impression on their minds. They talked to 

 us often about him, in many different places; they would 

 not believe that he was dead; and when assured it was 

 so they showed real grief. At Meru boma, when we saw 

 the Meru tribesmen dance, one of the songs they sung was: 

 "Since Nyama Yango came, our sheep graze untouched 

 by the Samburu," and, rather curiously, the Samburu sing 

 a similar song reciting how he saved them from the fear 

 of having their herds raided by the nomads farther north. 



After leaving this camp we journeyed up the Guaso 

 Nyero for several days. The current was rapid and muddy, 

 and there were beds of reeds and of the tall, graceful papy- 

 rus. The country round about was a mass of stony, broken 

 hills, and the river wound down among these, occasionally 

 cutting its way through deep gorges, and its course being 

 continually broken by rapids. Whenever on our hunts we 

 had to cross it, we shouted and splashed and even fired 

 shots, to scare the crocodiles. I shot one on a sandbar in 

 the river. The man the rhino had wounded was carried 

 along on a litter with the safari. 



Sometimes I left camp with my sais and gun-bearer 

 before dawn, starting in the light of the waning moon, and 

 riding four or five hours before halting to wait for the safari; 

 on the way I had usually shot something for the table a 

 waterbuck, impalla, or gazelle. On other occasions Cun- 



