Sporting Trips of a Subaltern 



steamed away up to Burutu ; here there were a 

 few acres of, more or less, reclaimed swamp and 

 a Company's store, but it was all very depressing. 

 There had been a hitch about our food. We 

 thought arrangements had been made to feed us 

 as far as Lokoja, but they hadn't, so we got 

 some goats and lived on them for the next 

 week. Some people can see beauty in a man- 

 grove swamp, but I can't ; I think it's the most 

 horrible thing I know. The stillness and total 

 absence of life, except for countless voracious 

 mosquitoes, are bad enough; but the worst is, 

 you feel that the air is laden with the most 

 poisonous microbes, the deadly miasma hangs 

 round you at night in short, it is a fitting abode 

 for loathsome reptiles, not men. 



On the third day we got into the main stream 

 of the Niger. Banks appeared, and here and there 

 a village ; swamps, thank goodness, left behind. 

 Hippo were now abundant ; we counted between 

 forty and fifty one morning ; they lay submerged 

 except for the tops of their heads. One would 

 be watching, to all appearance, some rocks or 

 patches of weed when they were gone, to appear 

 again a few moments later. Of course it was 

 no use shooting at them from the launch; but 

 well-worn hippo paths, leading up through the 

 masses of tropical vegetation on the banks, 

 showed where they might be shot when coming 



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