THE LOST SAFARI 



top, a spike out behind, and a half-moon blade in 

 front. The babu had with a little of his signal paint 

 done the whole thing, blade and all, to a brilliant 

 window-shutter green. 



As soon as we had recovered our breath, we asked 

 him very politely the reason for these stupendous 

 preparations. It seemed that it was his habit to 

 take a daily stroll just before sunset, "for the 

 sake of the health," as he told us in his accurate 

 English. 



"The bush is full of bad men," he explained, 

 "who would like to kill me; but when they see this 

 axe and this knife they say to each other, 'There 

 walks a very bad man. We dare not kill him.' ' 



He marched very solemnly a quarter mile up the 

 track and back, always in plain view. Promptly 

 on his return he dove into his little back room where 

 the periodic tinkling of his praying bell for some 

 time marked his gratitude for having escaped the 

 "bad men." 



The bell ceased. Several times he came to the 

 door, eyed us timidly, and bolted back into the 

 darkness. Finally he approached to within ten feet, 

 twisted his hands and giggled in a most deprecating 

 fashion. 



"What is the use of this killing game?" he gabbled 

 as rapidly as he could. "Man should not destroy 



245 



