THE SEFARI 23 
friend. None marked it if they failed to return. Some 
one grabbed their pittance due, at the coast. The hyenas 
had the rest. The sefari struggled on! 
I am drawing no fanciful picture. I am simply stating 
what I have been myself told by men who took part — 
white men be it understood — in many such old time sefaris 
from Zanzibar and Mombassa. 
It is needless to say that with the abolition of slavery, 
and far more still, with the introduction of Protectorate 
tule by England, rule that does most really attempt at least 
to protect the native, all this has ceased. You are obliged 
to do a good deal for your sefari — often much more than 
local opinion deems necessary. 
The porters’ wages are fixed. You cannot pay less, 
and for this country they are high. ‘The quality and quan- 
tity of food you must give him are fixed. He must have a 
blanket, tent, and water bottle from you, even if he is en- 
gaged for but a few weeks. He is supposed to be examined 
and passed as fit to work by the medical officer. He “‘signs 
on” for so long a time with you, and at the end of that 
time, if he demands them, you must pay him his 
wages. You are supposed not to punish him, but hand 
him over in case he misbehaves to the civil authorities. 
But as you are likely to be often more than a hundred 
‘miles from any court, a reasonable enforcement of 
discipline, when necessary, is expected from you, and not 
resented by him. 
So much about present sefari life. Every would-be 
traveller soon learns. He knows his own amount of bag- 
gage. He knows it to the pound, and to his cost, if he 
pays his steamer bills at Mombassa before coming up 
country, and a further interview with the railroad authori- 
ties on the question of baggage is likely to impress him 
still more. He reads in books, or hears from friends that 
he will need so many men, and that he had better engage 
