274 
THE GUASO NYERO 
[CH. XI 
gun-bearer, was a Swahili, quite fearless with dangerous 
game, rather sullen, and unmoved by any emotion that 
I could ever discover. He spoke a little English, but 
it could not be tailed idiomatic. One day we saw two 
ostriches, a cock and a hen, with their chicks, and 
Bakhari, with some excitement, said, 44 Look, sah! 
ostrich ! bull, cow, and pups !” The other gun-bearer, 
Gouvimali, in some ways an even better hunter, and 
always good-tempered, knew but one English phrase; 
regularly every afternoon or evening, after cleaning the 
rifle he had carried, he would say, as he left the tent, 
his face wreathed in smiles, 44 G-o-o-d-e-bye !” Gouvi¬ 
mali was a Wakamba, as were Simba and my other sais, 
M’nyassa, who had taken the place of Hamisi (Hamisi 
had broken down in health, his legs, as he assured me, 
becoming 44 very sick ”). The cook, Roberti, was a 
mission boy, a Christian. We had several Christians 
with the safari, one being a headman, and all did 
excellently. I mention this because one so often hears 
it said that mission boys turn out worthless. Most of 
our men were heathens; and of course many, both of the 
Christians and the Mohammedans, were rather thinly 
veneered with the religions they respectively professed. 
When in the morning we started on our hunt, my 
gun-bearers and sais, and the skinners, if any were 
along, walked silently behind me, on the lookout for 
game. Returning, they were apt to get in front, to 
pilot me back to camp. If, as at this time was gene¬ 
rally the case, we returned with our heads bent to the 
rushing rain, they trudged sturdily ahead in dripping 
silence. If the weather was clear the spirits of the 
stalwart fellows were sure to rise until they found some 
expression. The Wakamba might break into song; or 
they might all talk together in Swahili, recounting the 
