36 AFRICA SPEAKS 



dini Harbor to the mainland. The sun was intensely 

 bright, and it was a rest for my eyes to gaze on the long 

 hne of swaying palms which fringed the farther banks. 

 I was looking westward, visualizing familiar scenes on 

 the highlands of Kenya, on the vast expanse of veldt 

 in Tanganyika where roamed immense herds of graceful 

 antelope. I could see, as on a screen, the galloping 

 herds of zebra and wildebeest raising clouds of dust 

 into the air; the gentle giraffe looking down from his 

 great height on the passing caravan. I was in memory 

 crossing the Stony Athi and experiencing my first rhino 

 encounter. Beyond this I again could see the beautiful 

 hills around Sienna and wondered if the lions still roared 

 there each night. Now that I had made up my mind 

 to push on to the West Coast through the very heart 

 of this continent, I pondered what the deep forests and 

 the unfamihar trails held for me in the way of adventure. 

 These thoughts made me impatient to get started, but 

 there were many things yet to do in Mombasa. 



I had received a telegram from Mike Cottar, my 

 friend and companion on a previous safari, and had 

 wired him to join me at Mombasa. Now on the 

 morning of September twenty-third, he stepped off the 

 train with a smile on his face, a bright red shirt on his 

 back, a rifle over his shoulder, and a five-gallon hat 

 on his head. He was the same Mike I had left in Nai- 

 robi two and one haff years before. We were under- 

 taking a hazardous adventure. The coming months 

 would be filled with hardships and dangers, among 

 wild animals and wild men, but, because of Mike's 

 knowledge and promised assistance, I felt assured of 

 success and looked into the future with anticipation 

 and confidence. 



