276 
AFRICAN GAME TRAILS 
I had kept four Kikuyu with me to accompany me on 
my hunts and carry in the skins and meat. They were with 
me on this occasion; and it was amusing to see how my 
four regular attendants, Bakhari and Gouvimali the gun- 
bearers, Simba the sais, and Kiboko the skinner, looked 
down on their wild and totally uncivilized brethren. They 
would not associate with the ‘‘shenzis,’’ as they called 
them; that is, savages or bush people. But the ‘^shenzis’’ 
always amused and interested me; and this was especially 
true on the afternoon in question. Soon after we had 
started campwards with the skin and meat of the oryx, 
we encountered a succession of thunder-storms. The rain 
came down in a deluge, so that the water stood ankle deep 
on the flats, the lightning flashed continuously on every 
side, and the terrific peals of thunder made one continuous 
roll. At first it maddened my horse; but the uninter¬ 
rupted blaze and roar, just because uninterrupted, ended by 
making him feel that there was nothing to be done, and he 
plodded stolidly forward through the driving storm. My 
regular attendants accepted it with an entire philosophy, 
which was finally copied by the Kikuyus, who at first felt 
frightened. One of them had an old umbrella which he 
shared with a crony. He himself was carrying the marabou 
stork; his crony had long strips of raw oryx meat wound 
in a swollen girdle about his waist; neither had a stitch 
on save the blankets which were wrapped round their 
throats; and they clasped each other in a tight embrace as 
they walked along under the battered old umbrella. 
In this desolate and lonely land the majesty of the 
storms impressed on the beholder a sense of awe and 
solemn exaltation. Tossing their crests, and riven by 
