THE RHINOCEROS 



a few feet into the air uttering a peculiar rapid 

 chattering. Writers with more sentiment than sense 

 of proportion assure us that this warns the rhinoc- 

 eros of approaching danger. On the contrary, I 

 always looked at it the other way. The rhinoceros 

 birds thereby warned me of danger, and I was duly 

 thankful. 



The safari boys stand quite justly in a holy awe of 

 the rhino. The safari is strung out over a mile or 

 two of country, as a usual thing, and a downwind 

 rhino is sure to pierce some part of the line in his 

 rush. Then down go the loads with a smash, and 

 up the nearest trees swarm the boys. Usually their 

 refuges are thorn trees, armed, even on the main 

 trunk, with long sharp spikes. There is no difficulty 

 in going up, but the gingerly coming down, after all 

 the excitement has died, is a matter of deliberation 

 and of voices uplifted in woe. Cuninghame tells 

 of an inadequate slender and springy, but solitary, 

 sapling into which swarmed half his safari on the 

 advent of a rambunctious rhino. The tree swayed 

 and bent and cracked alarmingly, threatening to 

 dump the whole lot on the ground. At each crack 

 the boys yelled. This attracted the rhinoceros, 

 which immediately charged the tree full tilt. He hit 

 square, the tree shivered and creaked, the boys 

 wound their arms and legs around the slender sup- 



