110 THE LAND OF SHE EIGN 
is a sight that should give pause to the careless shot. No 
man has a right to kill things carelessly, or to waste life; 
least of all to inflict pain, and continuous pain, just because 
he is lazy. If he is a good shot, nine times out of ten his 
chosen beast dies with far less suffering, than if it died 
by disease, driven forth from the herd, or by the lion’s 
grip. It moves but a few paces from the place it received 
its death shot. If he is a poor shot, he will only fire at 
game within his killing distance, which distance is soon 
learned by all. But no man, surely, should leave the thing 
he has chosen to kill, to slowly die. The people of the 
country are often peculiarly careless in this respect. Game 
has been and is so plentiful; “Let it go, thereane 
many more.”’ 
The natives and Somali have no feeling whatever 
about inflicting pain. It never occurs, seemingly, even to 
the most intelligent of them, that an animal should be 
considered at all. You must act for your servants, and 
insist that they obey your orders, punish any breach of 
them immediately. So far as they are concerned nothing 
more can be done. 
And this leads me to say something of “tracking.” 
Every sefari should number among its porters men who 
can track, who know at a glance the meaning of a foot- 
mark that may baffle you or escape you altogether. Some 
experienced hunters advise the engaging of N’dorobo 
trackers and say there are none so good. I have found 
the Wakamba to be about the best trackers in the country. 
The Wakamba are a hunting tribe and all the little but 
important matters, such as skinning, cleaning heads, 
making kobokos, they are adepts at. 
Your gunboy is, of course, a good tracker. All his “‘chits” 
say so. Alas, chits are usually as reliable as cooks’ refer- 
ences athome. Men who continually do nothing but abuse 
their gunbearers while they employ them, in some mis- 
