ELEPHANT 199 
He is the very last man who should be encouraged to have 
any dealings with the native. 
So far as I could learn, the two small bands of Cheran- 
gang N’dorobo, kill about one or two elephants to each band 
yearly. The Elgao perhaps as many more. Some of the 
old men tell me they have killed forty. This is probably 
an outside number. 
H. and I had determined to try and make our way into 
a new country, not a very extensive one, still a region so 
guarded by river and swamp that our N’dorobo declared, 
and we believed truly, no rifle shot had been heard within 
it for ages. They declared that when the herds were 
chased off the Nzoia plateau, they went to this place and 
stayed there or near by for a long time. ‘There they would 
show us elephant “‘like the grass’’ —a term they always 
use when they speak of large numbers. 
We had had two very hard and unavailing “follow up”’ 
rides. On each day we must have covered not less than 
thirty-five miles, and this is enough for a day’s going under 
an equatorial sun. One day the herd separated, and on 
hard ground we lost them. On the second, a fine herd 
headed straight for where J. J. W. and his hunter were 
waiting for them, so once we had assured ourselves of where 
they were going, we turned away from a fresh spoor. We 
had our difficulties to overcome, of course; we expected as 
much, the heavy work falling on H., my weak knee 
rendering it difficult for me to do more than look after 
myself. I could not swim, for fear of putting it out again, 
but we managed to flounder through somehow. Here let 
me say a word about what you can and cannot get natives 
to do for you, when you are in a difficult country. They 
know the country well —so much is a matter of course. 
But though they do, once they find themselves in the com- 
pany of the ‘‘bwana”’ (white master) nothing seems to induce 
them to take the initiative. Is there a bad swamp to be 
