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AFRICAN GAME TRAILS 
our white-tail deer, the bushbuck is a vicious and redoubt¬ 
able fighter, and will charge a man without hesitation. 
The last day we were at the ’Nzoi the porters petitioned 
for one ample meal of meat; and we shot a dozen buck 
for them—kongoni, kob, and singsing. One of the latter, 
a very fine bull, fairly charged Kermit and his gun-bearer 
when they got within a few yards of it, as it lay wounded. 
This bull grunted loudly as he charged; the grunt of an 
oryx under similar circumstances is almost a growl. On 
this day both Kermit and I were led to bee trees by honey 
birds and took some of the honey for lunch. Kermit stayed 
after his boys had left the tree, so as to see exactly what 
the honey bird did. The boys had smoked out the bees, 
and when they left the tree was still smoking. Throughout 
the process the honey bird had stayed quietly in a neigh¬ 
boring tree, occasionally uttering a single bubbling cluck. 
As soon as the boys left, it flew straight for the smoking 
bee tree, uttering a long trill, utterly different from the 
chattering noise made while trying to attract the attention 
of the men and lead them to the tree; and not only did it 
eat the grubs, but it also ate the bees that were stupefied 
by the smoke. 
Next day we moved camp to the edge of a swamp about 
five miles from the river. Near the tents was one of the 
trees which, not knowing its real name, we called ‘^sausage 
tree’’; the seeds or fruits are encased in a kind of hard gourd, 
the size of a giant sausage, which swings loosely at the end 
of a long tendril. The swamp was half or three-quarters 
of a mile across, with one or two ponds in the middle, from 
which we shot ducks. Francolins—delicious eating, as the 
ducks were also—uttered their grating calls near by; while 
