XVIII 

 THE FIRST LIONESS 



AT AN early hour we loaded our bedding, food, 

 tents, and camp outfit on a two-wheeled wagon 

 drawn by four of the humpbacked native oxen, 

 and sent it away across the plains with instructions 

 to make camp on a certain kopje. Clifford Hill 

 and myself, accompanied by our gunbearers and 

 syces, then rode leisurely down the length of a 

 shallow brushy canon for a mile or so. There we 

 dismounted and sat down to await the arrival of 

 the others. These — including Harold Hill, Captain 

 Duirs, five or six Wakamba spearmen, our own 

 carriers, and the dogs — came along more slowly, 

 beating the bottoms on the off chance of game. 



The sun was just warming, and the bees and 

 insects were filling the air with their sleepy droning 

 sounds. The sidehill opposite showed many little 

 f outcrops of rocks so like the hills of our own Western 

 States that it was somewhat difficult to realize that 



I we were in Africa. For some reason the delay was 

 long. Then suddenly all four of us simultaneously 



