128 THE GAME OF BRITISH EAST AFRICA. 



Although the highlands have been left far behind, the heat is not oppressive 

 here, for a cool breeze sails up the broad expanse of waters, and the trees behind give 

 grateful shade to the little camp. The sound of the blowing and puffing of hippos 

 from somewhere downstream reaches your ears, and in the river just below camp is 

 a little sandbank scattered with the fresh remains of one of these great beasts. The 

 rusty head of a native's barbed arrow tells the tale of its death. The sun sinks and 

 its fierce glare gives place to the bright, mellow light of a full moon. The hippos 

 commence grunting with delight at the prospect of their excursion inland, and soon with 

 a loud splashing and much noise they wade ashore. Then all is silent again except 

 for the occasional splash of a fish or the crack of a branch, but if you were amongst 

 the hippos you would hear the comfortable sound of their steady munch, munch. 



Then comes a splash and a swirl from the opposite bank, followed by another 

 and another; some animals are evidently taking to the water, and the nature of their 

 splashes proclaims them to be tailed monsters. An egret or some other white 

 river-bird sails silently up the river, and hovers over the sandbank before alighting 

 in the shallow water at its edge. There it stands silent and expectant, for about 

 this bank must be many fish attracted bv the smell of the departed river-horse. 

 Suddenly it starts forward and sails away upstream and out of sight, scared by 

 a movement in the water close to the sandbank, and presently a long form, followed 

 by others, glides up out of the water and on to the spit of sand. The sight of these 

 constrains you to break the peace of the African night with a loud rifle report, 

 and one of the forms throws itself high into the air and then falls back into the 

 shallow water writhing in death struggles. The rest scuttle into the water with 

 undignified haste, and when their swirlings and splashings have ceased, silence once 

 more reigns supreme. 



For the crocodile I have neither sympathy nor mercy, as it is an enemy to fish, 

 game, and to mankind. Not that I wish to see it exterminated, for that would 

 be as great a pity as the extermination of any other form of animal life. But 

 for this creature there is no such chance until large towns and cities spring up 

 on the banks of this at present uninhabited part of the river, and until excursion 

 launches puff up and down well-dredged channels. Until that day arrives (and 

 may it be a long time in coming) the isolated efforts of a few sportsmen are not 

 likely to effect any great reduction in the numbers of these reptiles. What may 

 be effected, however, is the instilling into this reptile of an increased respect for 

 man, and for that reason I take a shot whenever occasion offers. It is possible to 

 put up some sort of a fight with a lion or a leopard, but the victim of tlie 

 crocodile is dragged down, all unawares, never to be again seen. 



