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AFRICAN GAME TRAILS 
away, behind a thorn-tree, and began to move jerkily and 
abruptly to and fro, gazing toward us. ‘‘Oh, you malev¬ 
olent old idiot!’’ I muttered, facing it with rifle cocked; 
then, as it did not charge, I added to Cuninghame, “Well, 
I guess it will let us by, all right.” And let us by it did. 
We were anxious not to shoot it, both because in a country 
with no settlers a rhino rarely does harm, and I object to 
anything like needless butchery, and furthermore because 
we desired to avoid alarming the buffalo. Half a mile far¬ 
ther on we came on the latter, apparently past their fright. 
We looked them carefully over with our glasses; the wounded 
one was evidently not much hurt, and therefore I did not 
wish to kill her, for I did not need another cow; and there 
was no adult bull. So we did not molest them; and after 
a while they got our wind and went off at a lumbering gal¬ 
lop. Returning to the dead cow, we found the skin ready 
and marched back to camp, reaching it just as the moon 
rose, at seven; we had been away thirteen hours, with 
nothing to eat and only the tepid water in our canteens to 
drink. 
We were in the country of the Samburu, and several of 
their old men and warriors visited us at this camp. They 
are cattle-owning nomads like the Masai; but in addition 
to cattle, sheep, and goats they own herds of camels, which 
they milk but do not use as beasts of burden. In features 
they are more like Somalis than negroes. 
Near this camp was the remains of the boma or home 
camp of Arthur Neuman, once the most famous elephant 
hunter between the Tana and Lake Rudolf. Neuman, 
whose native name was Nyama Yango, was a strange 
moody man who died by his own hand. He was a mighty 
