ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETY BULLETIN 



881 



humbugged me ! They evidently thought I was 

 powerkss to do anything, and I knew only too 

 well that they would desert on the slightest 

 pretext. 



In Sheffeliensville I got the first news of 

 Pygmy Hippos. Mr. Lett, an American mulatto, 

 who had been a hunter with the Buttikofer ex- 

 pedition, gave me the assurance that the Pygmy 

 Hippo existed on the upper part of the Duquea 

 River, while his big cousin, the "Kiboko" of East 

 Africa, only frequented the rivers near the coast. 

 I hired six canoes in Sheffelien to bring me up 

 to Jehtown. six days up the Duquea River. 



Rain was the order of the day. In pouring 

 rain we started every morning, and pulled all 

 day long against the current of the swollen 

 river. The second day out. I thought the time 

 had come to teach my carriers a lesson. We 

 were so far from civilization already that I no 

 longer feared desertion. 



When I called the boys in the morning to 

 start, nobody came ; so I called up my headman, 

 and asked him very quietly if the boys were 

 packing up. 



"No," was the reply, "they do not want to 

 start yet." 



Without saying another word I took up my 

 Browning automatic revolver, and put seven 

 shots through the roof of the boys' hut. Then 

 they came quickly ! From that moment I took 

 the reins ; and after I had picked out the biggest 

 and laziest of the motely crowd, and had given 

 him a good hiding, I had no further trouble. 



After a month's hard hunting, I at last had 

 the luck to see a Pygmy Hippo. I was drifting 

 down the river in my canoe, late one afternoon, 

 when I saw the animal trying to climb up the 

 steep bank of the river. Before it had noticed 

 us, we were within ten yards. I stood with my 

 gun ready to shoot, but with a great effort I 

 curbed my hunting passion. Carl Hagenbeck's 

 last word had been: "Now, remember! We must 

 have our animals alive! Do not shoot before you 

 are sure to be able to catch one." Not five 

 yards from the canoe the little brute dropped 

 back into the water and disappeared. 



Shorly after that I returned to the coast 

 and fitted out anew to penetrate into the Golali 

 country. Two months I hunted there without 

 any success. In the rains it was practically im- 

 possible to find any tracks ; but in spite of every- 

 thing I managed to find about thirty promising 

 places in which to dig my pits. At first I had 

 the intention to try netting the animals, but the 

 uncertainty of their movements, and the thick 

 undergrowth of the dense Liberian forests, made 

 net-hunting impracticable. 



One day a Hippo fell into one of the pits. 

 It had rained for thirty-six hours, and before 

 my scouts reached the place it escaped un- 

 harmed ! For the first time in my life, I knew 

 myself beaten. Practically all my carriers were 

 sick; the whole country was under water, and 

 the native trails were recognizable only because 

 in them the water raced down like mountain 

 torrents. 



I returned to the coast and cabled to my 

 people that the only chances for success were 

 in the short, dry season from January to May. 

 The net result of this expensive expedition was 

 that I had absolute proof of the existence of the 

 dwarf Hippo. 



But what Hagenbeck undertakes, he carries 

 through against all odds, and without consider- 

 ation of financial sacrifices. He had not lost 

 faith in me; and in December, 1911, I started 

 out on my second expedition. This time I was 

 known in Liberia, and had but small difficulties 

 in raising a caravan of fifty good men. 



I had seen on the last trip that nothing could 

 be done near the coast, though the beasts exist 

 even within a day of the coast ; but there it is 

 hunted too much by the natives, and is conse- 

 quently too rare and shy. 



The confluences of the upper Lofa River were 

 this time my goal. Here, in the practically un- 

 known Gorze territory of the powerful and war- 

 like Golah tribe, near the big Sue Bush, where 

 there is no human habitation for days and days, 

 I could reckon on success. 



But again I encountered an unforseen ob- 

 stacle. The Pesse tribe had declared war, and 

 was fighting the Government and its allies. 



Yangaia, a big fortified Golah town, I reached 

 without any considerable trouble, but when I 

 called my carriers the next morning to start, 

 they rebelled, one and all. The previous day we 

 had had a sharp march of twenty-five miles 

 through thick bush. Instead of taking their 

 loads the whole crowd came down to my tent, 

 which I had pitched outside the village, and 

 refused to go on. They said : 



"We are tired to-day ; and there is war ahead. 

 To-day we will not move, for to-morrow we 

 hold word." 



This was all I could get out of them. The 

 whole success of the expedition was in the bal- 

 ance. Had I made them the slightest concession, 

 everything would have been lost. Once more 

 I told them to take their loads, but only a threat- 

 ening murmur was the answer. Then I saw 

 red, open rebellion ! I slipped the Browning 

 in my pocket, took my hunting crop and went 

 among them. Clash, crack went the whip on the 



