KAPITI STATION 
21 
CH. i] 
for the next fortnight, and we owe primarily to him, to 
his mastery of hunting craft, and his unvarying and 
generous hospitality and kindness, the pleasure and 
success of our introduction to African hunting. His 
life had been one of such varied interest as has only 
been possible in our own generation. He had served 
many years in Parliament; he had for some years been 
a magistrate in a peculiarly responsible post in the 
Transvaal; he had journeyed and hunted and explored 
in the northern Sahara, in the Soudan, in Somaliland, 
in Abyssinia; and now he was ranching in East Africa. 
A singularly good rider and one of the best game shots 
I have ever seen, it would have been impossible to find 
a kinder host or a hunter better fitted to teach us how 
to begin our work with African big game. 
At Kapiti Station there was little beyond the station 
buildings, a “ compound ” or square enclosure in which 
there were many natives, and an Indian store. The 
last was presided over by a turbaned Mussulman, the 
agent of other Indian traders who did business in 
Machakos-boma, a native village a dozen miles distant; 
the means of communication being two-wheeled carts, 
each drawn by four humped oxen, driven by a wellnigh 
naked savage. 
For forty-eight hours we were busy arranging our 
outfit, and the naturalists took much longer. The 
provisions were those usually included in an African 
hunting or exploring trip, save that, in memory of my 
days in the West, I included in each provision box a 
few cans of Boston baked beans, California peaches, and 
tomatoes. We had plenty of warm bedding, for the 
nights are cold at high altitudes, even under the Equator. 
While hunting I wore heavy shoes, with hobnails or 
rubber soles; khaki trousers, the knees faced with 
