TWO DIANAS IN SOMALILAND 165 



the blackened waste, and explained they had waited 

 and waited for the rhino to break cover, expecting the 

 rush every second, and the flames and heat drove them 

 almost out of range. Nothing happened, and it was 

 not until the whole brake of thorn was a heap of ashes 

 that they came on the pachyderm at last. His charred 

 bulk lay in the smouldering embers, and until the 

 place cooled it was impossible to retrieve his horns. 

 What a pity and what a waste ! We both cursed the 

 lire stick and our haste. One bullet, Cecily's, I surmise, 

 must have penetrated the rhino's heart, and after 

 careering on for a short way the stricken animal settled 

 down silently to die. We were intensely put out. 

 Not even the beautiful lioness allayed our disappoint- 

 ment and chagrin. 



After a rest and a meal in camp we returned to the 

 scene of the still smoking barbecue. The vultures 

 rose in a slothful lazy mass, and perched again around 

 us. The hide of the rhino was too roasted to be of 

 any use, and the men commenced sawing off the horns, 

 a slow, weary job which we left them to finish. Bed 

 was what I prayed for just then. I was wearied out. 

 It had been our biggest, hottest day yet, and next 

 morning, Sunday too, I deliberately and carefully de- 

 tained Morpheus — what a loop-hole for a Somali 

 scandal — until 9 A.M. 



