94 THE GAME OF BRITISH EAST AFRICA. 



suffer a similar fate or are left to perish of hunger. In the bush a wounded 

 animal is driven from the herd to die or get well by itself, lest its blood-spoor 

 induce beasts of prey to follow up the herd. On the plains a wounded or maimed 

 beast is the safeguard of the remainder. With human beings there appears to be 

 less excuse for such barbarous treatment of a fellow-creature. 



All bird life, too, is preparing to roost ; the stately old secretary bird has suddenly 

 given a few gigantic hops along the ground to get up steam, and has sailed off to his 

 night's lodging in a thorn tree. All day he has been leisurely stalking about on the 

 plains as if he had no occupation other than that of being a perfect gentleman. 

 A stork has already taken up a well-balanced position on one leg at the tip-top 

 of a tree in the river-bed. A flock of crested or Kavirondo cranes fly overhead 

 with their plaintive cry of " Come on ! Come on ! " The partridges are calling 

 from the river-bed, and a party of ducks, with loud splashings and quacks, suddenly 

 rise from the pool in the swamp and fly off in a V-shaped wedge. The guinea-fowl, 

 who have been clank, clankmg ! in the river-bed, are flying one by one up to 

 their perches and settling themselves for the night with tremendous flappings of 

 wings and jostlings. Long after most of them have settled down one or two can 

 still be heard moving to different branches, having arrived at the conclusion that 

 their position was not quite comfortable enough or that the company was not 

 quite according to their taste. 



As night closes, a great silence comes over the plain, now that all bird life has 

 gone to rest, and there is no longer the hum and droning of insects except for an 

 occasional chirrup of the cricket. During the day these sounds have been so 

 continuous that they have almost passed unnoticed, whilst ever and anon from 

 overhead came the rattling noise made by the lark of the plains, as he soared or 

 descended with quickly shaking wings. 



Suddenly there sounds the sharp bwe ! bwe ! of the jackal answered by another 

 in the distance. Then from afar comes the mournful wail of the hyaena drawing 

 nearer and nearer, as he unerringly makes his way to the scene of the lion's evening 

 kill by the swamp. All is silent again, but as the wind veers round towards us and 

 blows from the swamp, we hear the sharp crack of a crunched bone. Then of a 

 sudden there is the sound of angry snarling and growls, finishing up with a howl. 

 The hyaena has tried to get his portion prematurely and has been nipped or 

 cuffed over the head for his temerity. He will not try to get any more now, but will 

 sulk round, shuffling backwards and forwards in a great state of impatience. He will 

 skulk up and down, every now and again coming up a little closer, but retiring quickly 

 when the lion's eye meets his. If he is kept long waiting his impatience will know no 



