Camping after death of the first bull. 
From a photograph by Edmund Heller. 
tangled forest, the forest of the tropical 
mountain sides. 
The trees, strange of kind and endless 
in variety, grew tall and close, laced to¬ 
gether by vine and creeper, while under¬ 
brush crowded the space between their 
mossy trunks, and covered the leafy mould 
beneath. Toward dusk crested ibis flew 
overhead, with harsh clamor, to seek their 
night roosts; parrots chattered, and a curi¬ 
ously homelike touch was given by the 
presence of a thrush in color and shape al¬ 
most exactly like our robin. Monkeys 
called in the depths of the forest, and after 
dark tree-frogs piped and croaked, and the 
tree hyraxes uttered their wailing cries. 
Elephants dwelt permanently in this 
mountainous region of heavy woodland. 
On our march thither we had already seen 
their traces in the “shambas,” as the culti¬ 
vated fields of the natives are termed; for 
the great beasts are fond of raiding the 
crops at night, and their inroads often do 
serious damage. In this neighborhood 
their habit is to live high up in the moun¬ 
tains, in the bamboos, while the weather is 
dry; the cows and calves keeping closer to 
the bamboos than the bulls. A spell of wet 
weather, such as we had 
fortunately been hav¬ 
ing, drives them down 
in the dense forest which 
covers the lower slopes. 
Here they may either 
pass all their time, or at 
night they may go still 
further down, into the 
open valley where the 
shambas lie; or they 
may occasionally still do 
what they habitually did 
in the days before the 
white hunters came, and 
wander far away, mak¬ 
ing migrations that are 
sometimes seasonal, and 
sometimes irregular and 
unaccountable. 
No other animal, not 
the lion himself, is so 
constant a theme of talk, 
and a subject of such un¬ 
flagging interest round 
the camp-fires of African 
hunters and in the native 
villages of the African 
The ’Ndorobo who had hysterics 
on the elephant. 
From a photograph by Edmund Heller. 
