282 AFRICA SPEAKS 



me wonder if Mike would be able to get through, 

 and if he did reach the Gurmeti, could he return 

 for me. In the hurry of departure, some bril- 

 liant individual had placed my food box, prepared by 

 the pislii, back on the truck, so when I took stock of 

 my suppUes, I found a very scant larder. If flooded 

 rivers should make it impossible for Mike or Ted to 

 return to Camp Simba, my situation might indeed 

 prove serious. 



As usual when it was dripping wet, the Hons began 

 to prowl about and roar, even before darkness. They 

 always kicked up a big fuss after a rainstorm, but 

 now both they and the hyenas seemed to know I was 

 all alone, so they did their best to keep me company 

 wdth roars, growls, laughs, and howls, until I com- 

 menced to wonder if they intended to move mto camp. 

 Lions, being cats, disUke dampness, but my personal 

 opinion is that, in addition to their natural repugnance 

 for water, the storm itself — the Hghtning and thunder 

 — makes them uneasy; then the water, of course, 

 floods them out of their lairs in the bottoms of the 

 dongas. Once out of their accustomed locations, 

 they go roaming about, complaining to all who care 

 to hsten, until they find a dry spot. This night the 

 hons circled my camp within five hundred yards, 

 while the hyenas came within that many feet. 



Old African hunters had told me that upon occasion 

 hyenas would imitate the roar of a hon, but I could 

 never be sure I had actually heard one do it until this 

 evening, when one big spotted fellow stood witliin plain 

 sight and gave me an excellent imitation of a hon's 

 roar. I suppose his intention was to scare me, but 

 it only made me mad, and I ducked into the tent to 



