THE LAST FRONTIER 



crash and smash to right or left brings him up all 

 standing, his heart racing, the blood pounding 

 through his veins. It is jumpy work, and is very 

 hard on the temper. In the natural reaction from 

 being startled into fits one snaps back to profanity. 

 The cumulative effects of the epithets hurled after a 

 departing and inconsiderately hasty rhinoceros may 

 have done something toward ruining the temper of 

 the species. It does not matter whether or not the 

 individual beast proves dangerous; he is inevitably 

 most startling. I have come in at night with my 

 eyes fairly aching from spying for rhinos during a 

 day's journey through high grass. 



And, as a friend remarked, rhinos are such a 

 mussy death. One poor chap, killed while we were 

 away on our first trip, could not be moved from the 

 spot where he had been trampled. A few shovelfuls 

 of earth over the remains was all the rhinoceros had 

 left possible. 



Fortunately, in the thick stuff especially, it is 

 often possible to avoid the chance rhinoceros through 

 the warning given by the rhinoceros birds. These 

 are birds about the size of a robin that accompany 

 the beast everywhere. They sit in a row along his 

 back occupying themselves with ticks and a good 

 place to roost. Always they are peaceful and quiet 

 until a human being approaches. Then they flutter 



