CHAPTER V 



THE MOHOLI LEMUR {Galago moholi) 

 HIS ADVENTURES IN CAPTIVITY 



Yes, I know you fellows call me a Bush Baby. I don't know 

 why, but I suppose it's because I look so meek and have 

 such gentle ways. Naturalist fellows also say I am an inno- 

 cent little chap, and live on grubs and beetles and soft wild 

 fruits. I object to be called a Bush Baby. It offends my 

 dignity. I am a Moholi lemur, and my aristocratic name 

 is Galago moholi, Dutchmen call me a Nacht aapje, which 

 means a "night ape." Well, so I am. I love to roam in 

 the beautiful woods when King Sol, the sun, goes to rest, 

 and all is still and quiet, save the hoot of the owl, the cry of 

 the jackal, the grunting of the wild pigs, and roar of Leo, 

 the mighty king of the forest. I fear them not, except the 

 owl — that great fellow with the feathers sticking up from 

 the crown of his head. They call him the Eagle-owl. Oh ! 

 how we fellows hate him. When we are right in the middle 

 of a frolic playing hide-and-seek amongst the leafy branches, 

 he skims silently along, and drops down on one of us with 

 great curved talons outstretched. I lost a sister, a brother, 

 half a score of cousins, aunts, and uncles in this way. Then 

 there is another everlasting horror which haunts us, and 

 that is the wild cat. You call him the Kafir cat. He is 

 the fellow who boasts about his long line of ancestors. He 

 says he can trace his ancestry right back to the time, many 

 thousands of years ago, when the Egyptians were a mighty 



nation. It seems, those Egyptian fellows worshipped his 



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