A FASCINATING WILD BEAST 215 



Over on my side of the swamp there was a wide 

 extension of dry reeds and bushes through which 

 I was obliged to go in order to keep in touch with 

 the skirmish line of porters. We had got three- 

 quarters the full length of the swamp and any 

 moment might reasonably expect to hear from a 

 lion if there was one ahead of us. Every rifle was 

 at readiness and the porters were advancing less 

 impetuously. In fact, they were pretending to go 

 forward without doing so. 



Suddenly a wild shout from a porter near by, 

 then a hurried retreat of other porters, and then a 

 cautious advance gave sign that something des- 

 perate was about to happen. We caught a glimpse 

 of reeds moving about and then saw something 

 crouched in the grass beneath. Two ears were 

 finally distinguished among the tangle of rushes, 

 and there was no further doubt about it. It was not 

 a lion. It wasn't even a hyena. 



It was a little dog. His presence in the middle 

 of that swamp was about as logical as if he had been 

 a musk-ox or a walrus. However, there he was, gaz- 

 ing up at us from the bulrushes, with mild, friendly 

 eyes and a little tail that was poised for wagging 

 at the slightest provocation. He was instantly 

 christened "Moses" for obvious reasons. Later the 

 name was changed to Mosina, also for obvious rea- 

 sons. 



After the line of porters had regained their com- 

 posure the lion beat continued, but no lion appeared. 

 The sum total of the wild beasts yielded by that 



