9 8 
THE EAST AFRICAN RAILROAD 
ment, they were able to look down fully five thousand feet, to a shining 
river that followed the valley's level, threading in its flow a lake and 
many glittering pools. At this point begin those splendid forests of 
coniferous trees which form the characteristic feature of this region. 
Away westward may be seen the great blue mass of Mount Elgon 
and in the nearer view a land of noble aspect. Before the eye stretch 
rich rolling downs of luxuriant grass, bits of leafy woodland, forests 
of acacia, and lower down, along the watercourses of the valley, vege¬ 
tation of tropical type. The downs, which slope away northward for 
fifty or sixty miles, are clad with a soft, silky grass, with hues varying 
from a pale pink to mauve, gray or russet as the wind bends the flower¬ 
ing stems. 
In passing over this plateau region the American visitors were 
warned not to follow any seeming native path, as these were usually 
cunning devices to tempt wandering antelopes or other unsuspecting 
animals to concealed game-traps. Such a trap would probably be an 
oblong pitfall concealed by sticks and cut grass, through which the 
unwary creatures might fall into a pit from which they could not 
escape, perhaps to be impaled on a sharp-pointed stake planted in the 
bottom of the pit. 
Animals of various species roam here in countless numbers, and 
the few trapped in game pits by the nomad natives are too few in com¬ 
parison to be considered. What will be the effect, however, if the 
British sportsman is let loose among them, with his desire “to kill 
something," we cannot consider without alarm; especially when we 
consider the fate of the buffaloes of our western plains. These hunts¬ 
men do not usually go abroad, as did Roosevelt and his companions, 
to bring down only a pair of each species, for scientific purposes, but 
rather to be able to boast how many creatures they had killed, with 
no object but that of pure slaughter in a morning's outing. 
To a nature-lover like Theodore Roosevelt, with his joy in the 
existence of animal life, the scene before him must have been one of 
inspiring delight. Gazing from his point of vantage he could see 
large herds of stately giraffes, standing or stalking about as one may 
see cattle peacefully standing in an American grazing field. These 
giraffes—the camelopards of our old animal story-books—are the 
