THE LAND OF FOOTPRINTS 



in the thicket, was as much to be expected as a 

 frontal charge. 



We advanced to the thicket's edge with many pre- 

 cautions. To our relief we found she had left us a 

 definite trail. B. and I kneeling took up positions on 

 either side, our rifles ready. F. and Simba crawled 

 by inches eight or ten feet inside the thicket. 

 Then, having executed this manoeuvre safely, B. 

 moved up to protect our rear while I, with Memba 

 Sasa, slid down to join F. 



From this point we moved forward alternately. 

 I would crouch, all alert, my rifle ready, while F. 

 slipped by me and a few feet ahead. Then he would 

 get organized for battle while I passed him. Mem- 

 ba Sasa and Simba, game as badgers, their fierce 

 eyes gleaming with excitement, their faces shining, 

 crept along at the rear. B. knelt outside the thicket, 

 straining his eyes for the slightest movement either 

 side of the line of our advance. Often these wily 

 animals will sneak back in a half circle to attack 

 their pursuers from behind. Two or three of the 

 bolder porters crouched alongside B., peering eagerly. 

 The rest had quite properly retired to the safe dis- 

 tance where the horses stood. 



We progressed very, very slowly. Every splash 

 of light or mottled shadow, every clump of bush 

 stems, every fallen log had to be examined, and then 



ii6 



