186 THE BONDS OF AFRICA 



man who has sojourned awhile in their midst 

 must have a soul that is dead if he cannot feel 

 their grip strong upon him long after he has 

 returned to the hollow contentment of an easy- 

 chair and the morning newspaper. 



The life of the late Arthur Neumann typifies 

 the spirit of which I write better, perhaps, than 

 any panegyric that might be written round the 

 solitudes of the vast interior. Neumann was at 

 one time a Cape civil servant; but he longed 

 for a life that the Colony could no longer give 

 him, and so he migrated to Mombasa in the days 

 of our East African Empire's birth. Throughout 

 the length and breadth of the Protectorate the 

 name of Nevmiann is known. He was a magnifi- 

 cent shot, and he earned for himself the sobriquets 

 of " Nyama Yangu " and " Resasa Moja." The 

 former means " My meat." It is said by the 

 natives that this was Neumann's pet expression 

 when some grand specimen of African fauna was 

 pointed out to him. " Resasa Moja " may be 

 interpreted as " One cartridge." Those who have 

 hunted big game will appreciate these testimonies 

 to his marksmanship. Neumann was a hunter 

 who seldom missed, and the name of a man who 

 invariably brings down his animal with one 

 shot is written as large in native history as 

 Napoleon's is in the records of more civilized 

 peoples. The Wa-Meru and the Samburu chant 

 of Neumann's prowess in their songs. In the 

 days when the Guaso Nyiro was a no-man's land 

 he made all the vast tract from Kenia to Lake 

 Rudolph and Marsabit his own hunting-grounds. 

 It is a tragedy of relentless fate that this colossus 

 amongst African Nimrods died by his own hand 

 in the great fog-ridden city of London. 



Neumann's old camps are to be found scattered 



