70 ROOSEVELT HUNTING GROUNDS. 



morning, long before daylight, the whole space in front of the fort is 

 packed with almost naked warriors, while the beating of drums, the 

 blowing of horns and the chanting of voices in a crude rhythm fully 

 awakes all would-be sight seers to the coming war dance. And when 

 the "indaba'' does begin, later in the morning, it is a sight to be remem- 

 bered. The pack of plumed, squirming, gyrating, yelling warriors, their 

 hair and chocolate colored bodies smeared with red earth and glistening 

 with the slimy juice of the castor oil plant ; legs and arms encircled with 

 twisted wire or heavier iron ornaments ; leopard skins waving from their 

 shoulders, and their broad cowhide or rhinoceros shields, painted with 

 tribal emblems, and long spears clashing together, as particular chiefs 

 advance and retreat in the dance, or as gifts of live sheep and bulls are 

 brought forward into the arena — these are the weird features of the exhi- 

 bition. The laughable side of the picture is the obvious fondness of the 

 African warrior for any European article of clothing, which he proudly 

 parades before his people — an old pair of trousers, a torn jacket, 

 a weather-stained uniform, a ragged umbrella or battered helmet. Mix- 

 ing such articles as these with their time-honored ostrich plumes, capes 

 of leopard skin, belts of monkey fur and metal anklets and bracelets, is a 

 characteristic but still ludicrous mingling of New and Old Africa. 



ON TO THE EXTREME EASTERN POST. 



The road to Embo is through a beautiful country well cultivated by 

 the natives, and the thoroughfare itself is maintained by them (under 

 the supervision of the district commissioner) in such good shape that a 

 bicycle could take to it without fear of a puncture. The Tana is crossed 

 by a ferry, which travels along a rope impelled by the current of the 

 river. This convenience is only for such human kind as Colonel Roose- 

 velt and his party ; their ponies have to swim the sixty yards of foaming 

 water, reddened by washings from the soil. From the further bank is 

 obtained a noble view of Mount Kenia, gradually rising from its great 

 base to an altitude little short of Kilimanjaro. All along the road smil- 

 ing, peaceable natives meet the traveler with extended hand — in the 

 other a spear or sword — and the only real danger to be feared is the mad, 

 sudden and unaccountable charge of some hidden buffalo. Embo is at 

 length reached. It consists of a one-story, three-roomed stone house 

 containing quarters for the commissioner and military oiificer, as well 



