A FASCINATING WILD BEAST 
215 
Over on my side of the swamp there was a wide 
extension of dry reeds and bushes through which 
I was obliged to go in order to keep in touch with 
the skirmish line of porters. We had got three- 
quarters the full length of the swamp and any 
moment might reasonably expect to hear from a 
lion if there was one ahead of us. Every rifle was 
at readiness and the porters were advancing less 
impetuously. In fact, they were pretending to go 
forward without doing so. 
Suddenly a wild shout from a porter near by, 
then a hurried retreat of other porters, and then a 
cautious advance gave sign that something des¬ 
perate was about to happen. We caught a glimpse 
of reeds moving about and then saw something 
crouched in the grass beneath. Two ears were 
finally distinguished among the tangle of rushes, 
and there was no further doubt about it. It was not 
a lion. It wasn’t even a hyena. 
It was a little dog. His presence in the middle 
of that swamp was about as logical as if he had been 
a musk-ox or a walrus. However, there he was, gaz¬ 
ing up at us from the bulrushes, with mild, friendly 
eyes and a little tail that was poised for wagging 
at the slightest provocation. He was instantly 
christened “Moses” for obvious reasons. Later the 
name was changed to Mosina, also for obvious rea¬ 
sons. 
After the line of porters had regained their com¬ 
posure the lion beat continued, but no lion appeared. 
The sum total of the wild beasts yielded by that 
