40 THE LAND OF THE LION 
thing as a sefari’s marching, sympathy counts for much. 
When a hard march had to be made, I took care to be 
behind or alongside the men. The common custom on 
hunting expeditions is for the bwana to ride miles ahead 
and wait for the porters to come up. I never could see 
any possible advantage to anyone in this custom. In difh- 
cult country, master and men lose each other to their 
mutual exasperation; mutual, I say, for though the bwana 
alone is permitted to relieve his feelings, by swearing at 
innocent and guilty alike, you may depend the tired porters 
*“‘feel damn” (as the boy did whose father licked him for 
swearing), and in the rainy season, which is also the best 
hunting season, master and men often get needlessly wet, for 
though on the approach of a storm, camp should be pitched, 
an African law of Mede and Persian forbids the most 
undisciplined sefari to camp till it has found its bwana. 
When you hunt, hunt; when you march, march, I have 
always found to be as good an axiom as in the Rockies. 
We had out there a cook once who not content with his own 
job, believed himself to have a heaven-born eye “‘for 
country.” One day there was a difference of opinion 
as to the trail to take to next water —a long way off. 
The cook was sure. So he went one way and the wagon 
another. We camped tired, baked with August heat, 
in ‘“‘bad land”’ country. Sunset came. No cook. Eight 
o’clock, none. Nine! At ten a miserable wreck of a 
footsore man stumbled in and sat down to think. He 
asked for a drink of whiskey, and then quietly said, “If 
God gives me strength, I’ll never again leave the cook 
wagon.” We all roared with laughter and he joined in. 
The sefari should however be prepared to do more 
than mere porterage, and camp making. It is your moving 
household and army. The Wanyamwazi stand for the 
housekeeping part of it and for nothing more. They 
are, taken by themselves, like lost children in a new country. 
