THE TANA RIVER 



rejoin us in a few days or weeks with tougher and 

 less valuable mules. Pending his return we moved 

 on leisurely, camping long at one spot, marching 

 short days, searching the country far and near for 

 the special trophies of which we stood in need. 



It was great fun. Generally we hunted each in his 

 own direction and according to his own ideas. The 

 jungle along the river, while not the most prolific 

 in trophies, was by all odds the most interesting. It 

 was very dense, very hot, and very shady. Often a 

 thorn thicket would fling itself from the hills right 

 across to the water's edge, absolutely and hopelessly 

 impenetrable save by way of the rhinoceros tracks. 

 Along these then we would slip, bent double, very 

 quietly and gingerly, keeping a sharp lookout for 

 the rightful owners of the trail. Again we would 

 wander among lofty trees through the tops of which 

 the sun flickered on festooned serpentlike vines. 

 Every once in a while we managed a glimpse of the 

 sullen oily river through the dense leaf screen on its 

 banks. The water looked thick as syrup, of a deadly 

 menacing green. Sometimes we saw a loathsome croc- 

 odile lying with his nose just out of water, or heard 

 the snorting blow of a hippopotamus coming up 

 for air. Then the thicket forced us inland again. 

 We stepped very slowly, very alertly, our ears 

 cocked for the faintest sound, our eyes roving. 



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