A LION ON THE RAILWAY 



book, The Man-eaters of Tsavo, we discovered that 

 we were no longer in a country where a man can take 

 a stroll down the road after dinner. This was brought 

 home to us vividly whilst we were at that station. 

 The new-comer, especially if he arrives at a place by 

 train, is apt to assume that the days of adventure are 

 over, and even if he does not really assume it, he is 

 usually afraid of making himself ridiculous by taking 

 any special precautions. I suppose we thought all 

 the man-eaters had been shot or chased away. At any 

 rate, when the train pulled up at Tsavo — it was at 

 eight o'clock in the evening — we got down to stretch 

 our legs, but we had not gone far before the guard 

 was after us. 



" Excuse me, gentlemen," he said, " but the 

 carriage is the most healthy place for you. A lion v/as 

 seen on the station a few minutes ago, just before 

 this train came in." 



We agreed with him very readily. 



Immediately after we left Tsavo I turned in and 

 slept till the following morning, awaking to find we 

 had reached a station called Sultan Hamud, after 

 a potentate from Zanzibar, who visited the place 

 whilst the line was being constructed and was duly 

 impressed with the energy — perhaps he thought it the 

 folly — of the white man. The morning was cliilly 

 — already we were well above sea-level — so I remained 

 rolled in my blankets watching the scenery. 



55 



