216 THE LAND OF THE LION 
I refer to the Katosh, because, though I had no time to visit 
them, I came very near to being spectator of a pretty little 
native cattle raising affair between them and a large Elgao 
war party. 
As H. and I made our way northward toward Turquell, 
looking for elephant, we crossed the quite fresh trail of a 
large war party. There was no mistaking that narrow 
beaten path which the foot of men moving in a long single 
line leaves on the veldt. Who were they? Where were 
they going? Had I come across such a trail four months 
before, it would have meant nothing to me. I might hunt 
the country over from Elgon to Cherangang, and Sergoit to 
the Turquell, and know really nothing at all about the 
people that thickly inhabited all the mountain lands that, 
from west, north, and east, looked down upon it. Now I 
had at last an introduction to them all. The land that had 
been so silent before, now had a voice. And evening after 
evening as we sat by the fragrant thornwood frre, | heard in 
part at least, something of its story. 
My teachers were the Cherangang N’dorobo, the most 
interesting natives | met during my year’s sojourn in the 
country, and men, too, who had never camped and hunted 
with any white man till my companion Mr. A. C. Hoey, with 
wonderful patience and tact, had succeeded in winning their 
complete confidence. Henceforth for me, if the days were 
interesting, the evenings round the camp fire were more 
interesting still, as I hear the stories of their own little tribe, 
or traditions somewhat loosely held among them of other 
tribes far larger and more powerful, that long since had been 
broken up or swept away. 
There are, be it remembered, N’dorobo and N’dorobo. 
Our friends and guides of to-day are, in the language of the 
country, Pukka N’dorobo, a tribe guarding jealously its 
own language and customs and territory, living its own dis- 
tinctive life. There are Nandi, Kikuyu, and Massai 
