XXVI 

 THE FRINGE-EARED ORYX 



AT ten o'clock the following morning we started. 

 On the high front seat, under an awning, sat 

 the German, F., and I. The body of the truck was 

 filled with safari loads, Memba Sasa, Simba, Mo- 

 hamet, and F.'s boy, whose name I have forgotten. 

 The arrangement on the front seat was due to a 

 strike on the part of F. 



"Look here," said he to me, "you've got to sit 

 next that rotter. We want him to bring us back 

 some water from the other side; and I'd break his 

 neck in ten minutes. You sit next him and give 

 him your motor car patter." 



Therefore I took the middle seat and played 

 chorus. The road was not a bad one, as natural 

 mountain roads go; I have myself driven worse in 

 California. Our man, however, liked to exaggerate 

 all the difficulties, and while doing it to point to 

 himself with pride as a perfect wonder. Between 

 times he talked elementary mechanics. 



"The inflammation of the sparkling plugs" was 



199 



