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spent an hour trying to walk up to them by manoeuvring 

 in one way and another. They did not run clear away, 

 but kept standing and letting me approach to distances 

 varying from four hundred and fifty to six hundred yards; 

 tempting me to shoot, while nevertheless I could not esti- 

 mate the rangs accurately, and was not certain whether I 

 was over or under 

 shooting. So I 

 fired more times 

 than I care to men- 

 tion before I finally 

 got my topi at 

 just five hundred 

 and twenty yards. 

 It was a handsome 

 cow, weighing two 

 hundred and sixty 

 pounds; for topi are 

 somewhat smaller 

 than kongoni. The 

 beauty of its coat, 

 in texture and col- 

 oring, struck me 

 afresh as I looked 

 at the sleek creat- 

 ure stretched out 

 on the grass. Like 

 the eland, it was 

 free from ticks; for the hideous pests do not frequent 

 this part of the country in any great numbers. 



I reached camp early in the afternoon, and sat down 

 at the mouth of my tent to enjoy myself. It was on such 

 occasions that the Pigskin Library proved itself indeed a 

 blessing. In addition to the original books we had picked 

 up one or two old favorites on the way: Alice's Adventures, 

 for instance, and Fitzgerald I say Fitzgerald, because 

 reading other versions of Omar Khayyam always leaves 



Giant Masai warriors and an average-sized porter 

 Front a photograph by J. A Iden Loring 



