98 IN AFRICA 



At four-thirty the homeward march was begun. 

 At five-thirty two rhinos blocked the path and one 

 of them had to be shot. At six we were still several 

 miles from camp, with the country wrapped in 

 darkness. The water was gone and only one shell 

 remained for the big gun. Somewhere ahead 

 were miles of thorn scrub in which there might be 

 rhinos or buif aloes. Two days before I had killed 

 two large buffaloes in the district through which we 

 must pass, and there was every likelihood of others 

 still being there. At seven we were hopelessly lost 

 in a wide stretch of hippo grass, and I had to fire 

 a shot in the hope of getting an answering shot 

 from camp. In a couple of moments we heard the 

 distant shot, and then pressed on toward camp. 

 The lion had been carried on ahead while we stopped 

 with the rhino, and so the news reached the camp 

 before us. A long line of porters came out to greet 

 us and a great reception committee was waiting at 

 the camp. It was the first lion of the expedition, 

 and as such was the signal for great celebration. 

 That night there were native dances and songs 

 around the big central camp-fire and a wonderful 

 display of pagan hilarity. 



It had been a hard day. Fourteen hours without 

 food, several hours without water, and miles of 

 hard tramping through thorn scrub in the darkness 

 and of long, broiling stretches in the blazing sun- 

 light. It seemed a good price to pay even for a 

 lion, but that night, as I finally stretched out on 

 my cot, I was conscious from time to time of a glow 



