Soldiering and Sport in Uganda 



had recently been seen, I pitched my camp on a 

 rise and sent out for information. 



My boys brought back a hunter who volunteered 

 to lead me the next morning to some fresh elephant 

 tracks. I did not like the appearance of my friend, 

 however, whose face alone was calculated to create 

 alarm and despondency. In the afternoon I walked 

 out three miles to where the herd had crossed the 

 road, making a fearful havoc of it. I had to hurry 

 back pretty sharp. A tremendous thunderstorm 

 rolled up, and I only just made my tent in time. 

 The rains were starting their season in this district; 

 but the storm was as brief as it was severe. 

 As soon as it had ceased, which it did all of a 

 sudden, I strolled down to the bottom of the rise to 

 enjoy the fresh scent of the air, cooled by the rain. 

 I shall never forget that evening. It was one of 

 those calculated to make a deep impression, leaving 

 behind a haunting memory not easily forgotten. 

 My tent was pitched on a hill surrounded by typical 

 elephant country, unsoiled by those numerous grass 

 fires with which the natives check the eternal and 

 rapid growth of the weed. An exquisite sunset 

 bathed the scene in a glory of beauty, tipping the 

 tops of the trees, throwing ever-lengthening shadows, 

 and reflecting itself in sundry pools which the 

 elephants frequented during the darker hours of the 

 night. Above all, the sky so spectacular as to be 

 almost unreal, dressed itself each moment in a 

 different hue, and lent its mysterious charm to the 

 mise en scene. A curious medley of feelings filled 



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