80 IN AFRICA 



A luncheon, with fruit, meat, curry and a pastry 

 is ready by the time we are, and then we smoke or 

 sleep through the broiling midday hours. Mr. 

 Stephenson or "Fred," as he is with us and I 

 go out on a scouting expedition and look for good 

 specimens to add to our collection of horns or to 

 get food for the porters. Sometimes the whole 

 party went out, either photographing charging 

 rhinos or shooting, but this part of the daily 

 program was usually too varied to generalize as 

 part of the daily doings. Several porters went with 

 each of us to bring in the game, which there is rarely 

 any uncertainty of securing. 



In the evening we return and find our baths of 

 hot water ready. We take off our heavy hunting 

 boots and slip into the soft mosquito boots. After 

 which dinner is ready, and our menu is strangely 

 varied. Sometimes we have kongoni steaks, at 

 other times we have the heart of waterbuck or the 

 liver of bushbuck or impalla. Twice we had rhino 

 tongue and once rhino tail soup. We eat, and at six 

 o'clock the darkness of night suddenly spreads over 

 the land. We talk over our several adventures of 

 the afternoon, some of which may be quite thrill- 

 ing, and then, with camp chairs drawn around the 

 great camp-fire, and with the sentinel askari pacing 

 back and forth, we spend a drowsy hour in talking. 

 Gradually the sounds of night come on. Off there 

 a hyena is howling or a zebra is barking, and we 

 know that through all those shadowy masses of trees 

 the beasts of prey are creeping forth for their 



