244 TWO DIANAS IN SOMALILAND 
no beard, but a short mane. Like the koodoo, the 
lesser is striped down each side like the white ribs of 
a skeleton. 
My friend still fed, rustling the bushes as he chose 
out his favourite herbage. I had seen nothing to fire 
at, but, in any case, I did not mean to try for him, as 
in my lone condition it would mean a return to camp 
for assistance, and meanwhile the beautiful antelope 
would be food for any prowling beast. I hated at all 
times to kill wastefully. The head of the lesser koodoo 
looked, as far as I could see, a fair one, the light of the 
sun glinting through the shadowy depths occasionally 
caught the curving horns. But since he might not 
be mine, since I could not get him back to camp, I 
would not kill wantonly. 
In speaking of the wholesale slaughter of Somali- 
land fauna by sportsmen and sportsmen so-called, 
one ought really to include the Somalis themselves. 
They have assisted materially to decimate the country 
— of elephants particularly. On lions they have not 
made much impression, as these animals are too big 
a job to tackle unless they are driven to it. But in 
the days when the elephant roamed the land, their 
slaughter for the sake of the ivory was wholesale, 
terrific and amazing. Clarence, who was of the Gada- 
bursi country, well remembers his father and his 
tribe hunting the elephant on a colossal scale, killing 
several a week. The manner of it was courageous, to 
say the least. The tribe went out, mounted on swift 
ponies, and the marked-down elephant being selected 
from the herd, he was ridden down in the open. One 
