TWO DIANAS IN SOMALILAND 179 
and went anyhow as though the devil himself was after 
me, like a streak of greased lightning. “You kill um 
libbah ? ” asked Clarence, who remained pretty much 
as I had last seen him. 
“ I don’t know,” I gasped, stupidly enough. 
And neither did I. 
Loading up carefully again, I carefully retraced my 
steps, Clarence crawling after me. There was no 
sound. All was still as death. We crept on until we 
reached my coign of vantage, and there ahead, prone, 
motionless, lay a great yellow mass, some ten yards 
nearer than at my first shot. He was dead indeed, 
and a very fine specimen of his kind. Strangely 
enough, he had one eye missing, the hall-mark of some 
early battle, and to this fact I possibly owed much of 
the credit I had been taking to myself for my stalk. 
Then began the usual modus operandi for the animal’s 
dismemberment, and I cleared out of the place to 
find that Cecily had taken the injured man back to 
camp, propping him up on her pony with the help of 
the second hunter. My pony was amusing itself at some 
distance, having dragged its moorings, and I caught 
him after a bit of a tussle. 
The invalid was given my tent, which smelt like 
concentrated essence of High Churchism. Keating’s 
incense smouldered in one corner and burning carbolic 
powder fought it for the mastery. Puzzled mos- 
quitoes buzzed in and out, but more out than in, 
thanks be. The man’s leg was torn in strips which 
hung in two or three inch lengths, fleshy and horrible. 
We arranged the torn shreds back, like patching an 
