THE RHINOCEROS OF THE LADO 395 
the Congo forest lies like a shroud over the land. On our 
right we passed the mouth of the Victorian Nile, alive with 
monstrous crocodiles, and its banks barren of human life be¬ 
cause of the swarms of the fly whose bite brings the torment 
which ends in death. As night fell we entered the White 
Nile, and steamed and drifted down the mighty stream. 
Its current swirled in long curves between endless ranks of 
plumed papyrus. White and blue and red, the floating 
water-lilies covered the lagoons and the still inlets among 
the reeds; and here and there the lotus lifted its leaves 
and flowers stiffly above the surface. The brilliant tropic 
stars made lanes of light on the lapping water as we ran on 
through the night. The river horses roared from the reed- 
beds, and snorted and plunged beside the boat, and croco¬ 
diles slipped sullenly into the river as we glided by. Tow¬ 
ard morning a mist arose and through it the crescent of 
the dying moon shone red and lurid. Then the sun flamed 
aloft and soon the African landscape, vast, lonely, mysteri¬ 
ous, stretched on every side in a shimmering glare of heat 
and light; and ahead of us the great, strange river went 
twisting away into the distance. 
At midnight we had stopped at the station of Koba, 
where we were warmly received by the district commis¬ 
sioner, and where we met half a dozen of the professional 
elephant hunters, who for the most part make their money, 
at hazard of their lives, by poaching ivory in the Congo. 
They are a hard-bit set, these elephant poachers; there 
are few careers more adventurous, or fraught with more 
peril, or which make heavier demands upon the daring, the 
endurance, and the physical hardihood of those who fol¬ 
low them. Elephant hunters face death at every turn, 
