54 SAFARI 



"Because Memsab is such a good cook," he 

 responded. 



Apparently, he was trying to pay Osa a compli- 

 ment and congratulate Martin all in one stroke, to 

 say nothing of getting back into her good graces after 

 the calling-down he had just received over the 

 bread. 



The natives were by no means as particular about 

 their food as we. Of course we made sure that they 

 had plenty to eat. That is one of the secrets of 

 keeping a safari crew happy and industrious. At 

 the same time, we had to watch the men to see that 

 they did not gorge themselves just before some 

 especially hard job was to be undertaken. 



My messages, which I had sent out from Nairobi 

 by native runners all over the North, had borne 

 good fruit. Scores of black boys and men had 

 appeared out of nowhere, at our rendezvous at the 

 quarantine station. I was particularly glad to see a 

 tough -looking wise old Swahili who grinned and 

 hailed me as "Bwana Piccer" (Master Picture), a 

 name the natives gave me because of my calling. 

 Two years ago he had been one of my porters and had 

 been charged while on duty by a rhino. His stom- 

 ach had been as badly ripped open as the horses in 

 the Spanish arena. At the time I thought he would 

 die, and left him with an Indian dresser at Meru 

 where for months he lay fiat on his back. But here 



