52 THE LAND OF THE LION 



his body erect, places it thus monkeywise, in his hand. 

 Now, with whistling of reed pipes and blowing of horns 

 we are off, the head porter carrying the heaviest load, 

 probably the bwana's tent, leads the way, and the head- 

 man with an askari or two, and some spare men bringing up 

 the rear. The tail of laden men has scarcely left the circle 

 of camp fires, before down swoop the brown kites, and ex- 

 pectant vultures flap from farther to nearer trees. 



Six hours is a sufficiently good march, and a well ordered 

 sefari will make in that time from twelve to fifteen miles, 

 with ten minutes rest every two and a half or three hours. 



Even if they are strangers to the country the men 

 instinctively know when they are nearing camp. The 

 column closes up. The weird music rises shrilly, and 

 lead by the Wanyamwazi who grunt one of their marching 

 songs as each man taps the water bottle of the man in front 

 of him, the long, twisting line comes marching in. 



Not seldom the afternoon storm, black and angry, is 

 rolling up, and then it is that you reap the advantages of 

 having well drilled your men. There is no confusion, each 

 knows his work and deftly does it. The heavy tents have, 

 from the first day out, allotted to them their team of men. 

 These teams race against each other with a will, and there 

 is a good deal of emulation among the men as to which 

 tent shall first stand pitched true and taut. When the 

 bwana's tent is in place, the pile of camp baggage, horns, 

 hides, provision, boxes, potio, saddles, ammunition, etc., 

 is laid on brushwood or logs, a trench dug around it, and the 

 whole covered with a waterproof ground sheet. Then, 

 like magic, the pretty low tents of the porters spring up in 

 horseshoe curve round the large tents, a thorn boma is 

 built for the donkeys or riding mules, if it is a lion country. 

 Wood is cut, water brought, and in front of fifteen or twenty 

 little habitations cheerful tongues of fire rise fragrantly 

 in the evening air. When they have cooked and eaten 



