A SAFARI AND WHAT IT IS 
67 
tails are thus left out, and the reader remains in 
ignorance of what the tent boy does, who skins the 
game that is killed, and what sort of a cook stove 
they use. 
The purpose of this chapter is to tell something 
about the little things that happen on safari. First 
of all, at the risk of repeating what has been writ¬ 
ten so often before, I will say a few words about 
the personnel of a safari, such as the one I was with. 
There were four white people in our expedition— 
Mr. and Mrs. Akeley, Mr. Stephenson, and myself. 
Mr. Akeley’s chief object was to get a group of five 
elephants for the American Museum of Natural 
History and incidentally secure photographic and 
moving picture records of animal life. Both he 
and Mrs. Akeley had been in Africa before and 
knew the country as thoroughly perhaps as any who 
has ever been there. Mr. Akeley undoubtedly is the 
foremost taxidermist of the world, and his work is 
famous wherever African animal life has been 
studied. Mr. Stephenson went for the experience 
in African shooting, and I for that experience and 
any other sort that might turn up. 
To supply an expedition of four white people, 
we had one head-man, whose duty it was to run the 
safari —that is, to get us where we wanted to go. 
The success and pleasure of the safari depends al¬ 
most wholly upon the head-man. If he is weak, the 
discipline of the camp will disappear and all sorts 
of annoyances will steadily increase. If he is 
strong, everything will run smoothly. 
