112 THROUGH ANGOLA 



lenges, to give me a lift and help me with carriers ; 

 as my own, through another desertion, had been 

 reduced to four. Mendez proved a most cheerful 

 companion, who drove an obstinate mule over a 

 terrible road with grim determination. Our two- 

 wheeled " Cape cart " swayed and rolled over 

 great boulders and into deep ruts, while Mendez 

 pulled and whacked at the mule, and I held on 

 to my precious guns and camera, and almost 

 equally precious bottles of Mendez' Chicago beer. 

 Though we escaped a smash, \ve suffered many 

 bruises, and were two very weary people who 

 arrived at the Coporollo River. In the 20 miles 

 between Gondombes and the Coporollo, there is 

 no water for most seasons in the year, and though 

 my carriers had been reinforced and their loads 

 lightened, it was doubtful if they could reach me 

 at the river that night. 



Mendez only consented to leave me when 

 persuaded that an old hunter was quite safe 

 though alone. Soon after leaving the Coporollo 

 he ran into a herd of elephants, which crossed the 

 road a few yards in front of him. He told me 

 afterwards that the elephants appeared to ignore 

 him, but that both he and the mule were deeply 

 impressed at the sight of this line of great grey 

 bodies, ghost-like in the silence of their passing. 



Though left with a Portuguese bun and a 

 bottle of the famous beer, I went off to the jungle 

 to hunt for something more substantial for dinner, 

 and to look for some shelter for the night. It 

 was fortunate that the carriers turned up at last, 

 for my hunting failed, and a hungry stomach and 



