CHAPTER XII. 



A DAY WITH BUFFALO. 



The day after my return to Mbarara, in Southern 

 Uganda, from the Congo, I laid out a very sketchy 

 map of the surrounding district on the table of 

 the acting Commissioner, and quietly enticed him 

 into a general conversation, which, as it habitually 

 does, gradually narrowed down to the all-absorbing 

 topic of the possibilities of big game within the 

 district. I left after one hour, having acquired the 

 desired information, with my mind fully formed as to 

 future plans, and with his invitation to dinner for 

 that evening in my pocket, which fitted in admirably 

 with the former. I made my way back to my 

 quarters, and turning to the ever-patient and attend- 

 ant orderly, I told him to summon all the boys to 

 receive their instructions. In a moment the sleepy 

 compound awoke to life, and its quiet inactivity was 

 invaded by bustle and stir. Some of the men were 

 rolling up my tent, the boys were filling up chop- 

 boxes, the " totos " hastily packing bedding, while 

 my orderlies filling their haversacks with ammunition, 

 and the headman rounding up the porters — all these 

 preparations being necessary prior to making a start 

 on a shooting expedition. 



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