THE LAST FRONTIER 



the lion at it in the early morning before he has 

 departed for home. The best kill is a zebra : first, 

 because lions like zebra; second, because zebra are 

 fairly large; third, because zebra are very numerous. 



Accordingly, after we had pitched camp just 

 within a fringe of mimosa trees and of red-flowering 

 aloes near the river; had eaten lunch, smoked a pipe 

 and issued necessary orders to the men, C. and I set 

 about the serious work of getting an appropriate 

 bait in an appropriate place. 



The plains stretched straight away from the river 

 bank to some indefinite and unknown distance to 

 the south. A low range of mountains lay blue to 

 the left; and a mantle of scrub thornbush closed the 

 view to the right. This did not imply that we could 

 see far straight ahead, for the surface of the plain 

 rose slowly to the top of a swell about two miles 

 away. Beyond it reared a single butte peak at four 

 or five times that distance. 



We stepped from the fringe of red aloes and squint- 

 ed through the dancing heat shimmer. Near the 

 limit of vision showed a very faint glimmering whit- 

 ish streak. A newcomer to Africa would not have 

 looked at it twice: nevertheless, it could be nothing 

 but zebra. These gaudily marked beasts take 

 queer aspects even on an open plain. Most often 

 they show pure white; sometimes a jet black; only 



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