ON AN EAST AFRICAN RANCH 
35 
of them, the warlike Masai, are in no way formidable as 
our Indians were formidable when they went on the war¬ 
path. The ranch country I first visited was in what was 
once the domain of the Wakamba, and in the greater part 
of it the tribes still dwell. They are in most ways primitive 
savages, with an imperfect and feeble social, and therefore 
military, organization; they live in small communities under 
their local chiefs; they file their teeth, and though they wear 
blankets in the neighborhood of the whites, these blankets 
are often cast aside; even when the blanket is worn, it is often 
in such fashion as merely to accentuate the otherwise abso¬ 
lute nakedness of both sexes. Yet these savages are cattle- 
keepers and cattle-raisers, and the women do a good deal of 
simple agricultural work; unfortunately, they are waste- 
fully destructive of the forests. The chief of each little vil¬ 
lage is recognized as the official headman by the British 
official, is given support, and is required to help the authori¬ 
ties keep peace and stamp out cattle disease—the two most 
important functions of government so far as the Wakamba 
themselves are concerned. All the tribes have their herds 
of black, brown, and white goats, of mottled sheep, and 
especially of small humped cattle. The cattle form their 
pride and joy. During the day each herd is accompanied 
by the herdsmen, and at night it is driven within its boma, 
or circular fence of thorn-bushes. Except for the milk, 
which they keep in their foul, smoky calabashes, the natives 
really make no use of their cattle; they do not know how 
to work them, and they never eat them even in time of 
starvation. When there is prolonged drought and conse¬ 
quent failure of crops, the foolish creatures die by the hun¬ 
dreds when they might readily be saved if they were willing 
