THE BUFFALO 



By now it was pitch dark in the thicket, and just 

 about so outside. We had to do a little planning. 

 I took the Holland gun, gave Memba Sasa the Win- 

 chester, and started him for camp after help. As 

 he carried off the lantern, it was now up to me to 

 make a fire and to make it quickly. 



For the past hour a fine drizzle had been falling; 

 and the whole country was wet from previous rains. 

 I hastily dragged in all the dead wood I could find 

 near, collected what ought to be good kindling, and 

 started in to light a fire. Now, although I am no 

 Boy Scout, I have lit several fires in my time. But 

 never when I was at the same time in such a des- 

 perate need and hurry; and in possession of such poor 

 materials. The harder I worked, the worse things 

 sputtered and smouldered. Probably the relief from 

 the long tension of the buffalo hunt had something 

 to do with my general piffling inefficiency. If I had 

 taken time to do a proper job once instead of a half- 

 way job a dozen times, as I should have done and 

 usually would have done, I would have had a fire 

 in no time. I imagine I was somewhat scared. The 

 lioness and her hulking cub had smelled the buffalo 

 and were prowling around. I could hear them 

 purring and uttering their hollow grunts. However, 

 at last the flame held. I fed it sparingly, lit a pipe, 

 placed the Holland gun next my hand, and resigned 



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