THE LAND OF FOOTPRINTS 



master the details of their government, but it was 

 indubitably built on patriarchal lines. When we 

 succeeded in approaching without being discovered, 

 we would frequently find the old men baboons squat- 

 ting on their heels in a perfect circle, evidently dis- 

 cussing matters of weight and portent. Seen from 

 a distance, their group so much resembled the coun- 

 cil circles of native warriors that sometimes, in a 

 native country, we made that mistake. Outside 

 this solemn council, the women, young men and 

 children went about their daily business, what- 

 ever that was. Up convenient low trees or bushes 

 roosted sentinels. 



We never remained long undiscovered. One of 

 the sentinels barked sharply. At once the whole 

 lot loped away, speedily but with a curious effect 

 of deliberation. The men folks held their tails in 

 a proud high sideways arch; the curious youngsters 

 clambered up bushes to take a hasty look; the 

 babies clung desperately with all four feet to the 

 thick fur on their mothers' backs; the mothers gal- 

 loped along imperturbably unheeding of infantile 

 troubles aloft. The side hill was bewildering with 

 the big bobbing black forms. 



In this lower country the weather was hot, and 

 the sun very strong. The heated air was full of 

 the sounds of insects; some of them comfortable. 



