Sporting Trips of a Subaltern 



had brought a boy from Sierra Leone who proved 

 quite useful, and assisted materially. Of course, 

 local servants there were none ; they'd have served 

 up raw entrails with their hands. All this time 

 we were busy all day teaching buck niggers the 

 art of war ; and very keen pupils they were, too. 

 The only thing they couldn't understand was 

 why, after a week's training, we didn't take them 

 off and smash somebody. 



The second week in April, after over three 

 weeks' work, I got two days' leave, and, riding out 

 some eight miles, camped, I had borrowed a tent 

 from some lucky man, and pitched it eventually 

 by the side of the river Mimmi, a tributary of the 

 Niger. I had done the thing in style, and had 

 mosquito curtains even ; but, notwithstanding this, 

 I spent a fearful night. I was too close to the 

 water, I suppose; nothing would keep out the 

 mosquitoes and sand-flies. I dozed off once or 

 twice for a bit, but got no proper sleep all night, 

 and was thankful when it grew light enough to 

 give up the farce of trying, and to start into the 

 bush with my rifle. 



I soon found it was very different hunting to 

 any I had ever done ; the bush was so dense that 

 it was seldom one could see any distance, while a 

 pony had to be discarded as it made too much 

 noise. 



Although not nearly so hot as many countries 

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