THE LAST FRONTIER 



"Fundi," said I, "if you are a gunbearer, prepare 

 this beast." 



He stepped up confidently and set to work. I 

 watched him closely. He did it very well, without 

 awkwardness, though he made one or two minor 

 mistakes in method. 



"Have you done this before?" I inquired. 



"No, bwana." 



"How did you learn to do it?" 



"I have watched the gunbearers when I was a 

 porter bringing in meat.* 



This was pleasing, but it would never do, at this 

 stage of the game, to let him think so, neither on his 

 own account nor that of the real gunbearers. 



"You will bring in meat to-day also," said I, for 

 I was indeed a little shorthanded, "and you will 

 learn how to make the top incision straighter." 



When we had reached camp I handed him the 

 Springfield. 



"Clean this," I told him. 



He departed with it, returning it after a time for 

 my inspection. It looked all right. I catechized 

 him on the method he had employed for high 

 velocities require very especial treatment and 

 found him letter perfect. 



*Except in the greatest emergencies a real gunbearer would never think of 

 carrying any sort of a burden. 



198 



