254 AFRICA SPEAKS 



it for such a long time. They came so close I could 

 hear the intake of their breath. Farther away, from 

 the direction of the bhnds, another hon was roaring 

 back at them, while the scattered hyena population 

 was letting the world know how mournful it felt. The 

 baby zebra became very nervous, finally running into 

 the dining shack, where he hid under the table. Poor 

 Httle feUow — he was not old enough to know what a 

 cruel world he had been born into! 



With a Masai as my only companion, I started out 

 on foot next morning to explore the district where I 

 had heard the lions roar the night before. While 

 walking along, I collected a fine silver-backed jackal 

 which I killed with my shotgun when it jumped up 

 forty yards away. We circled around back of the hill, 

 then down into a httle grassy valley. After crossing 

 a hollow and climbing a short way up the side of the 

 opposite slope, we sat down beneath a shady mimosa 

 tree to rest. The Masai's quick eyes detected move- 

 ments below which heralded the raising of the curtain 

 on a drama of the veldt. Very few are privileged to 

 behold a troop of wild lions actually stalking and 

 kilHng their prey. 



From my box seat I gazed down on tliis beautiful 

 vale of the Serengetti, and tlu-ough my eight-power 

 glasses watched three honesses and their consort, 

 assisted by an unwilling kongoni, enact their alloted 

 parts in a tragedy of the wilderness. The four cats 

 were crouched in the grass between myself and the 

 intended victim, which, of course, was unaware of its 

 danger. The wind was blowing from the kongoni 

 towEird us, but slightly to the left. The three honesses 

 slunk forward through the grass and took up positions 



