196 



ON SAFARI 



poor show of fighting, and were promptly reduced to 

 submission. 



So far this enterprise had not resulted in a single 

 shot being fired. There yet remained the one great 

 resource on which we still relied, to wit, the full moon. 

 On returning to Kishobo, we arranged this last desperate 

 effort — whole-night attacks on the buffalo by moonlight. 



We each separately took 

 light tents, with a couple 

 of "boys" and a minimum 

 of necessaries, and each en- 

 camped alone in gloomy 

 forest-corners that com- 

 manded conveniently adja- 

 cent " opens." 



While pitching my lonely 

 forest- camp that afternoon, 

 I noticed close by a curious, 

 sombre-hued small bird with 

 tufted bushy head and long 

 black tail edged with white, 

 that was quite unknown to 

 me. Some tiny woodpeckers shared my grove, and a 

 pair of barbets formed a study in bright hues — gold and 

 crimson, set off by jetty black. Less welcome neigh- 

 bours were huge millipedes, black and chestnut, with 

 vicious-looking jaws. But there was no time to consider 

 minor evils. 



Confidence was not lacking, and hopes ran high ; 

 but, alas for this venture, heavy rains now set in, and 

 each night purple-black clouds overcast the moon. Our 

 trusted auxiliary failed. Both had similar experience. 

 Within an hour of sundown that first evenino- we ran 

 right into the buffalo close by — not fifty yards away, in 

 the open. But nothing even then was visible, and the 

 beasts stampeded, snorting, in the dark. My own diary 

 that night records : " Lighter rains later, but still inky 

 dark. Could see nothing, so returned to camp at ten, 

 and had a pint of Giesler(!). At 2 a.m., thick, overcast 



A TINY WOODPECKER. 



Olive-green above, gi-ey below, 

 occiput bright crimson. 



