CHAPTER XX 



THE LAST PHASE 



Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirch'd 

 With rainy marching in the painful field, 

 And time has worn us into slovenry, 

 But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim 



King Hairy V 



At night came that weird lowing sound a leopard often 

 makes when hunting. Our friend of the afternoon, 

 of course. He wakened us up, and we turned out to 

 see that the watch happened to be on the alert. It 

 would be a parlous thing if we lost any of the precious 

 trophies now when the expedition was almost over — 

 not that taxidermine-covered skins and heads would 

 be the sort of feast that would appeal to a saucy 

 leopard. Then silence again. 



Next day one of our hunters heard of a neighbouring 

 karia losing a sheep the previous night. It was struck 

 down but not removed. I had heard of such a thing 

 before, and believe it to be an undoubted fact that a 

 leopard kills on occasion for mere lust. 



Cecily and I went to the karia, which was perched 

 on a plateau surrounded with slopes covered with 

 aloes. Quite a natural fortress, and one that might 

 be most easily guarded from the incursions of wild 

 beasts. But the Somalis seem to me to introduce 

 the kismet idea into every phase of their everyday 



