THE LAND OF FOOTPRINTS * 



He was an Incredible person. However, I was 

 glad to see him; he and a few others of his kind have 

 consoled me for a number of Americans I have met 

 abroad. Lady A., with the tolerant philosophy of 

 her class, seemed merely amused. I have often 

 since wondered how this ill-assorted partnership 

 turned out. 



Two other neighbours of ours dropped In once or 

 twice — twenty-six miles on bicycles, on which they 

 could ride only a portion of the distance. They 

 had some sort of a ranch up in the Ithanga Hills; 

 and were two of the nicest fellows one would want to 

 meet, brimful of energy, game for anything, and had 

 so good a time always that the grumpiest fever could 

 not prevent every one else having a good time too. 

 Once they rode on their bicycles forty miles to Nai- 

 robi, danced half the night at a Government House 

 ball, rode back in the early morning, and did an 

 afternoon's plowing! They explained this feat by 

 pointing out most convincingly that the ground was 

 just right for plowing, but they did not want to 

 miss the ball! 



Occasionally a trim and dapper police official 

 would drift in on horseback looking for native crim- 

 inals; and once a safari came by. Twelve miles 

 away was the famous Kamiti Farm of Heatly, 

 where Roosevelt killed his buffalo; and once or 



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