244 TWO DIANAS IN SOMALILAND 



no beard, but a short mane. Like the koodoo, the 

 lesser is striped down each side like the white ribs of 

 a skeleton. 



My friend still fed, rustling the bushes as he chose 

 out his favourite herbage. I had seen nothing to fire 

 at, but, in any case, I did not mean to try for him, as 

 in my lone condition it would mean a return to camp 

 for assistance, and meanwhile the beautiful antelope 

 would be food for any prowling beast. I hated at all 

 times to kill wastefully. The head of the lesser koodoo 

 looked, as far as I could see, a fair one, the light of the 

 sun glinting through the shadowy depths occasionally 

 caught the curving horns. But since he might not 

 be mine, since I could not get him back to camp, I 

 would not kill wantonly. 



In speaking of the wholesale slaughter of Somali- 

 land fauna by sportsmen and sportsmen so-called, 

 one ought really to include the Somalis themselves. 

 They have assisted materially to decimate the country 

 — of elephants particularly. On lions they have not 

 made much impression, as these animals are too big 

 a job to tackle unless they are driven to it. But in 

 the days when the elephant roamed the land, their 

 slaughter for the sake of the ivory was wholesale, 

 terrific and amazing. Clarence, who was of the Gada- 

 bursi country, well remembers his father and his 

 tribe hunting the elephant on a colossal scale, killing 

 several a week. The manner of it was courageous, to 

 say the least. The tribe went out, mounted on swift 

 ponies, and the marked-down elephant being selected 

 from the herd, he was ridden down in the open. One 



