MEMBA SASA 



other fellow, and not at all on myself. This cour- 

 age is always remarkable to me, even in the case of 

 the gunbearer who knows all about the man whose 

 heels he follows. But consider that of the gunbearer's 

 first experience with a stranger. The former has no 

 idea of how the white man will act; whether he will 

 get nervous, get actually panicky, lose his shooting 

 ability, and generally mess things up. Nevertheless, 

 he follows his master in, and he stands by. If the 

 hunter fails, the gunbearer will probably die. To 

 me it is rather fine: for he does it, not from the per- 

 sonal affection and loyalty which will carry men far, 

 but from a sheer sense of duty and pride of caste. 

 The quiet pride of the really good men, like Memba 

 Sasa, is easy to understand. 



And the records are full of stories of the white 

 man who has not made good: of the coward who bolts, 

 leaving his black man to take the brunt of it, or who 

 sticks but loses his head. Each new employer must 

 be very closely and interestedly scrutinized. In 

 the light of subsequent experience, I can no longer 

 wonder at Memba Sasa's first detached and imper- 

 sonal attitude. 



As time went on, however, and we grew to know 

 each other better, this attitude entirely changed. 

 At first the change consisted merely in dropping 

 the disinterested pose as respects game. For it was 



