274 
African Game Trails 
round at the shot and gazed toward us 
with its ears cocked forward, but made no 
movement to advance. Two porters car¬ 
ried the hyena to camp. While they were 
dressing it, I could not help laughing at 
finding that we were the centre of a 
thoroughly African circle of deeply inter¬ 
ested spectators. We were in the middle 
of a vast plain, covered with sun-scorched 
grass and here and there a stunted thorn; 
in the background were isolated barren 
hills, and the mirage wavered in the distance. 
Vultures wheeled overhead. The rhino, 
less than half a mile away, stared steadily 
at us. Wildebeest—their heavy forequar¬ 
ters and the carriage of their heads making 
them look like bison—and hartebeest were 
somewhat nearer, in a ring all round us, 
intent upon our proceedings. Four topi 
became so much interested that they ap¬ 
proached within two hundred and fifty 
yards and stood motionless. A buck tom¬ 
my came even closer, and a zebra trotted 
by at about the same distance, uttering its 
queer bark or neigh. It continued its 
course past the rhino, and started a new 
train of ideas in the latter’s muddled rep¬ 
tilian brain; round it wheeled, gazed after 
the zebra, and then evidently concluded 
that everything was normal, for it lay down 
to sleep. 
On we went, past a wildebeest herd 
lying down; at a distance they looked 
exactly like bison as they used to lie out on 
the prairie in the old days. We halted for 
an hour and a half to rest the men and 
horses, and took our lunch under a thick¬ 
trunked olive-tree that must have been a 
couple of centuries old. Again we went on, 
ever scanning through the glasses every 
distant object which we thought might 
possibly be a lion, and ever being disap¬ 
pointed. A serval-cat jumped up ahead 
of us in the tall grass, but I missed it. 
Then, trotting on foot, I got ahead of two 
warthog boars, and killed the biggest; 
making a bad initial miss and then empty¬ 
ing -my magazine at it as it ran. We sent 
it in to camp, and went on, following a 
donga, or small watercourse, fringed with 
big acacias. The afternoon was wearing 
away, and it was time for lions to be abroad. 
The sun was near the horizon when 
Tarlton thought he saw something tawny 
in the watercourse ahead of us, behind a 
grassy anthill, toward which we walked 
after dismounting. Some buck were graz¬ 
ing peacefully beyond it, and for a moment 
we supposed that this was what he had 
seen. But as we stood, one of the porters 
behind called out “ Simba”; and we caught 
a glimpse of a big lioness galloping down 
beside the trees, just beyond the donga; 
she was out of sight in an instant. Mount¬ 
ing our horses, we crossed the donga; she 
was not to be seen, and we loped at a smart 
pace parallel with the line of trees, hoping 
to see her in the open. But, as it turned 
out, as soon as she saw us pass, she 
crouched in the bed of the donga; we had 
photograph by Kerjpit Roosevelt. 
