1 12 TWO DIANAS IN SOMALILAND 
trace the wonders of the world in which we lived ; 
each morning come on romance in footprints, tragedy 
in massed spoor, “ sermons in stones, and good in 
everything.” 
It is not to be thought that all things went smoothly. 
In a big caravan of the kind such an idyllic condition 
of things would be well-nigh impossible. There were 
the most awkward disagreeablenesses and unpleasant- 
nesses of all sorts to bother us. I hate sporting books 
full of grumbling and tales of discomforts. Nobody 
asked the sportsman to undertake the job, and nobody 
cares if he “ chucks ” it. Therefore why write reams 
about miseries when there are so many things to make 
up for them ? No life is all couleur de rose ; but we 
can make light of the darkness, “ walk in its gardens, 
and forget the rain.” 
Ostrich spoor was now all about, but they are the 
most difficult of all things to come on at close quarters. 
I stalked odd birds, birds in twos, birds in trios for 
hours, but never came within any sort of range. 
All the natural history as told to me in childish days 
about the ostrich burying its head in the sand and 
imagining itself hidden I found very much of a 
nursery romance. The ostrich takes no chances, and 
so far from burying its head, has to thank the length 
of its neck for much of its safety. 
After days of wriggling about on the flanks of 
ostrich, in the front and in the rear, I confided my 
chagrin to Clarence. He said he had a Plan. I told 
him I was delighted to know that, and would he 
unfold it at once ? It seems very ridiculous, but just 
