46 THE LAND OF THE LION 
my heart: A good tracker, a splendid hunter, a self-sacri- 
ficing guardian, a heathen and a gentleman, all this and 
more, and I believe we shall remember each other so long 
as we live. I never knew him to confess to being tired. 
He always did his own job well, and what was wonderful 
in a native, he seemed to take genuine pleasure in helping 
less efficient workers to do theirs. He would, without 
any request being made, aid John in the tent, arrange 
my bed, help with cooking or track a lost mule. I would 
find him fastening with a firm knot the shaky bundle 
of some tired or inefficient porter. ‘The totos loved him 
(I tell the totos story later). He would have a handful 
of ground nuts or a bit of sugar cane for them. As we 
marched along, some porter behind us was sure to find 
on a rock or stump Kongont’s cigarette, not burned to a 
stump. Don’t smile! That meant a real bit of self- 
denial, and met with appreciation. If aman broke down 
Kongoni was the first to take up his load, a thing no self- 
respecting gunboy was supposed to do. ‘“‘Brownie” I 
christened him, for, as his photograph shows, he was the 
very picture of one of the “Brownies.” He was very 
strong, though he had no more flesh on him than has a 
Daddy Longlegs, and he couldn’t hit a barn door, if his 
life depended on it. Clear grit all through, devoted to 
his little wife, a true friend, a real man, is “Brownie.” 
I greatly fear I shall be accused of inventing an impossible 
black paragon, but after eight months of camp life and 
danger shared together, I may reasonably, | think, claim 
to know something whereof I speak, and I am only describ- 
ing a man as [| found him and proved him. 
The sefari cook is an important personage. He liter- 
ally makes you or mars you, and a good, cleanly and 
honest cook is not found every day. Still, the East African 
has a natural bent for cooking. He cooks his own rice 
when he is not in too great a hurry, as none but the man 
