RIDING THE PLAINS 



"O Herbert Spencer," the command would run, 

 "if you would condescend to bend your mighty 

 intellect to the lowly subject of maji, and will snatch 

 time from your profound cerebrations to assure its 

 being moto sana, I would esteem it infinite conde- 

 scension on your part to lete pesi pesi" 



And Herbert, listening to all this with a painful, 

 strained intensity, would catch the six key words, 

 and would falter forth a trembling "N'dio bwana." 



Somewhere down deep within Herbert Spencer's 

 make up, however, was a moral sense of duty. When 

 we finally broke camp for keeps, on the great hill of 

 Lucania, Herbert Spencer, relieved from his job, 

 bolted like a shot. As far as we could see him he 

 was running at top speed. If he had not possessed 

 a sense of duty, he would have done this long ago. 



We camped always well up on some of the numer- 

 ous hills; for, although anxious enough to find lions 

 in the daytime, we had no use for them at all by 

 night. This usually meant that the boys had to 

 carry water some distance for the benefit of the dogs. 

 We kept a canvas bathtub full from which they 

 could drink at any time. This necessary privilege 

 after a hard day nearly drove Captain Duirs crazy. 

 It happened like this: 



We were riding along the slope of a sidehill, when 

 in the ravine, a half mile away and below us, we 



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