ON AN EAST AFRICAN RANCH 
57 
several occasions I saw francolins and spurfowl cut down 
on the wing by a throwing-stick hurled from some un¬ 
usually dexterous hand. 
The beats, with the noise and laughter of the good-hu¬ 
mored, excitable savages, and the alert interest as to what 
would turn up next, were great fun; but the days I enjoyed 
most were those spent alone with my horse and gun-bearers. 
We might be off by dawn, and see the tropic sun flame 
splendid over the brink of the world; strange creatures 
rustled through the bush or fled dimly through the long 
grass, before the light grew bright; and the air was fresh 
and sweet as it blew in our faces. When the still heat of 
noon drew near I would stop under a tree, with my water 
canteen and my lunch. The men lay in the shade, and the 
hobbled pony grazed close by, while I either dozed or else 
watched through my telescope the herds of game lying 
down or standing drowsily in the distance. As the shadows 
lengthened I would again mount, and finally ride home¬ 
ward as the red sunset paled to amber and opal, and all 
the vast, mysterious African landscape grew to wonderful 
beauty in the dying twilight. 
