THE RIVER JUNGLE 



of them, however. When danger appears, even when 

 danger threatens, he is the last to leave the field. 

 Here and there he dashes frantically, seeing that the 

 women and children get off. And when the herd 

 tops the hill, Tommy's little horns bring up the rear 

 of the procession. I like Tommy. He is a cheerful, 

 gallant, quaint little person, with the air of being 

 quite satisfied with his own solution of this compli- 

 cated world. 



Among the low brush at the edge of the river jun- 

 gle dwelt also the dik-dik, the tiniest miniature of a 

 deer you could possibly imagine. His legs are lead 

 pencil size, he stands only about nine inches tall, 

 he weighs from five to ten pounds; and yet he is a 

 perfect little antelope, horns and all. I used to see 

 him singly or in pairs standing quite motionless and 

 all but invisible in the shade of bushes; or leaping 

 suddenly to his feet and scurrying away like mad 

 through the dry grass. His personal opinion of me 

 was generally expressed in a loud clear whistle. 

 But then nobody in this strange country talks the 

 language you would naturally expect him to talk! 

 Zebra bark, hyenas laugh, impallas grunt, ostriches 

 boom like drums, leopards utter a plaintive sigh, 

 hornbills cry like a stage child, bushbucks sound 

 like a cross between a dog and a squawky toy 

 and so on. There is only one safe rule for the nov- 



95 



