In the Volcanic Region 
137 
coming day, and as the first rays of the sun threw bands of light 
through the tree tops, the sounds we were waiting for so eagerly 
were heard coming faintly across the gorge, and we could see the 
resting place of the game we were coveting. 
Our council of war was soon over. Raven on the left in case 
the imfundu should break out on that side, the Father Superior 
on the right, and I in the centre. The forest soon swallowed us 
up, and then the fun began. 
The small, supple body of the Mutwa slipped through the 
incredible maze of creepers, bamboos, and thorns with admirable 
dexterity, whilst the European in his clothes had to maintain a 
steady battle with the thorns, which continually impeded his 
progress. A well-meant suggestion on the part of my Mutwa 
that I should divest myself of my clothes and hunt in his own 
costume did not appeal to me, as I had some personal regard for 
my skin. Having reached the bottom of the hollow and crossed 
the stream, we started climbing the slope, so as to reach the spot 
before the apes left the tree from which we had again heard their 
screaming, a sound which impresses itself indelibly upon the 
memory. Once they got to the ground they would be lost so far 
as we were concerned. 
If it had been difficult to get down, we found it almost 
impossible to climb up again. Our hands were covered with rents 
and scratches, our bodies were dripping with perspiration, when 
at last our arrival at an old elephant haunt brought some relief. 
It was now past seven o’clock, and we calculated that we must be 
close up to the tree in question. It was impossible to see through 
the dense brushwood. 
My guide stood still listening, with his head bent forward 
and his eyes on the ground. Then slowly raising his arm and 
pointing upward with his list—to do so with a finger spelt bad 
luck—he whispered: “ Wanakula ” (“ they are feeding ”). So thus 
far all was well. We crept on further with the very greatest care, 
anxiously putting aside every twig and dried leaf with, our 
hands. A quarter of an hour elapsed. Once again we stopped 
and listened. Not a sound was to be heard. Our prospects 
s 
