5 o THE LAND OF THE LION 



Others there are of them, of course, who are in a far better 

 condition, whose mothers have died and who come along 

 with their fathers. The worst used toto I ever knew was 

 such an one. I found him one dreadfully hot day when 

 we were marching without water for eight hours, struggling 

 along two miles behind his useless father, who since he 

 was an askari, carried not one ounce himself, but his short 

 Schneider carbine. That half-starved child was struggling 

 under four men's potio for eight days, /. e., 48 pounds of 

 meal beside a large sufuria and his father's sleeping mat, 

 quite 60 pounds in all. I was very ignorant, as I say, 

 of African matters then, but that day taught me a lesson, 

 and ever after I make a point of turning up unexpectedly 

 at the tail of the column and staying there sometimes for 

 hours, when long marches have to be made. No totos 

 should be admitted to any sefari till they have passed the 

 bwana's inspection, and the men who engage them should 

 be obliged to come forward and show themselves. Nor 

 should these men be paid their wages (this is very impor- 

 tant) when the sefari is paid off, till you are sure the toto 

 has received his modest and well-earned dole.* 



In this poor child's case I was able to see rough justice 

 done. We had fully two hundred miles steady marching 

 ahead of us, and for every mile of it, his father carried that 

 load, while he marched free. I got him to hospital on my 

 return, and after long sickness he at last recovered from 

 that awful day's march. 



It is five o'clock in the morning, scarcely any sign of 

 coming day yet, but every one in the sefari except perhaps 

 yourself, from headman to toto is stirring. The little 

 tents into which from five to seven men pack themselves, 

 like sardines, are being taken down, and sleeping mats 

 and personal whatnots are rolled tightly together. The 



* From one rupee to three rupees a month. 



