TWO DIANAS IN SOMALILAND 
237 
see the hartebeest, the aoul, the flies — there is nothing 
anywhere but a golden maze of light, and a world of 
noisy hammers in my ears. 
* * * * * 
’Twas nothing, just a mild touch of the sun, and 
next day Richard was himself again, and out with the 
second hunter, like a French falconer, prepared to 
fly at anything. Only we chose towards evening for 
our hunting. 
Our ponies carried us through most of the dense 
country, but sometimes we had to get off and seek an 
easier way round. We saw tracks of all varieties of 
game, but for an hour or more had the jungle ap- 
parently to ourselves. We were leading our steeds, 
when we crossed a great find, a place where a lion had 
been lying, may be after some great banquet. The 
thorns had taken his size and shape like a mould, 
and his hairs were all about to betray his whilom 
presence. The hunter spoored about and picked up 
the lion trail some little way off. The ground being 
so loose and sandy made no good evidence of time. 
The pugs might have been made now, or that morning. 
We went on silently, and after not more than five 
minutes going, with an electric -like shock, I realised 
that a lion stood over a kill to our immediate front. 
He winded us, and stretching his great neck and head 
upwards to sniff in magnificent disregard bounded 
into the thicket, the tuft on his tail being the last 
glimpse I caught of him. I was too taken aback 
