38 In the Heart of Africa 



So we agreed to start away for Mohasi. Schubotz, who was 

 making a systematic investigation of the swamp fauna, separated 

 from us to strike a bee-line for the lake. Thus I remained alone 

 with Wintgens and Weidemann. The latter fell in, unarmed, 

 with a fine bull buffalo whilst returning from dismounting our 

 magnesium light apparatus. As his rifle bearer was some dis- 

 tance away, the much-coveted prize was again lost. 



Everything seemed to have conspired against us whilst in this 

 neighbourhood. Wintgens also had good reason to complain of 

 his luck. He tried the buffalo swamp, and had the good fortune 

 at early dawn to encounter a group of buffaloes in one of the 

 clearings. Getting within gunshot, he aimed at the head of one 

 of them, a fine bull who was gazing straight towards him, and the 

 shot told, for he fell to the ground. 



As the herd broke frantically away he sent a second shot after 

 a cow buffalo. For some minutes he listened to the crackling 

 of the papyrus stalks made by the fugitives. Then all was still. 

 Wintgens rushed up joyfully to the spot where the creature had 

 fallen, but his face grew abnormally long when he found — 

 nothing! The bullet had doubtless struck against the tough 

 horns of the buffalo and stunned it momentarily. Voild tout! 

 The search for the wounded female also proved fruitless. 



The country grew more inhabited the farther we pushed on to 

 the south. Isolated, fine lithe figures of the Watussi, belonging 

 to the Ruanda potentate, were encountered. On the bare, parched 

 hill summits and on the long ridges we could see small hamlets 

 surrounded by milk-weed palisades. The inhabitants were of an 

 affable disposition, and if approached in a kindly manner were 

 very willing to render us any assistance we stood in need of. 

 Corresponding with the altitude we often found the temperature 

 very cold, and in the evening, when in the open, were only too 

 glad to don European overcoats. 



Early on the 27th, at five in the morning, we started from Lake 

 Russenje. At first the road winds through inhabited districts 

 till it merges into the broad grass steppe, which is only sparsely 

 covered with umbrella acacia. A great many herds of lyre- 



