154 AFRICA SPEAKS 



it was a husky General Cord, their sharp fangs tore 

 pieces from the side walls, making it necessary to have 

 it vulcanized. This proved that a hon can bite, for 

 we had traveled over hundreds of miles of rocky coun- 

 try on similar tires without getting a single cut, while 

 these hons playfully bit chunks out of it. 



I made a few scenes from the truck and later crawled 

 into one of the bomas. It seemed there was no end 

 to this hon photographing business, because no matter 

 how much film I took of them, the next time they 

 would do something different, presenting an oppor- 

 tunity I could not afford to miss. A short time after 

 entering the boma I was photographing seven hons 

 who were crouched all around the front of the inclosure. 

 Two honesses had lain down right against the thin 

 wall in order to avail themselves of the shade, for it 

 was an intensely hot afternoon. These two were 

 within four feet of Maniki and myself — so close we 

 could hear their breathing very distinctly. Quite 

 often they would switch their tails when annoyed by 

 flies and this banging against the thorn wall would 

 always give us a thrill. While I was intently looking 

 out of the peephole, Maniki touched me on the shoul- 

 der and conveyed the information that there was a 

 lion behind us. Without turning my head I said, 

 *'What of it? There are seven in front of us so why 

 bother about one behind.^" "But, bwana," pleaded 

 my gunbearer, "this is a bad hon, bay a sana, and you 

 had better take a look right away or I think we shall 

 both be killed." Maniki had been with me in bomas 

 many times, and knowing he wasn't easily frightened, 

 I thought it best to find out about the matter. After 

 turning around I was fascinated by the sight of a hon 



