JOURNEYING TO THE KILIMANJARO 



cidedly unhealthy place to live in, though there may be 

 worse ones. The white man suffers there, as elsewhere 

 in tropical Africa, from malaria; domesticated animals, 

 native and imported alike, die off in a short time unless 

 they are well stabled and constantly looked after. 



Captain Merker had received a long leave of absence, 

 which he meant to spend in the dear old fatherland. 

 Prince Loewenstein had intended to explore the moun- 

 tain range of the Kilimanjaro. Unfortunately for me, 

 he had received news which made his presence in South 

 Africa imperative. Their departure deprived me of an old 

 friend and a new one. Danger and deprivation, shared 

 in common, tend to endear men to one another. I missed 

 the prince on more than one occasion, for he was a splen- 

 did companion and helpmate, and particularly fitted by 

 his courage and hardiness for the life of an explorer in 

 the African steppe. While stopping at Moschi, I discov- 

 ered, in the beginning of April, a, new black species 

 of genet. One of these catlike animals was killed by a 

 herdsman at night, when she was attempting to steal a 

 young goat. Black felines are apparently not very rare 

 in East Africa. We are told that the negus of Abyssinia 

 often presents black leopard-skins to his dignitaries as 

 a sign of his distinguished favor. I myself have killed 

 several black servals near the Kilimanjaro. As far as 

 we know, there are no entirely black lions, but lions with 

 black manes do exist. 



On a beautiful sunny day, towards the end of the 



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