103 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Jan. 25, 1913 
I shall make a point of visiting this man 
(a Dutchman) on my way back to the railroad, 
and if 1 can find any reliable evidence of the 
new beast’s existence, I will report the result 
of my inciuiries to Forest and Stream. 
The East African tribes, so far as I can 
learn, unless when and in so far as they have 
been touched by Mohammedanism or Christianity, 
have no belief in either a supreme being or any 
spirit life. Death for them ends one brief all. 
A modified belief in witches and witchery gen¬ 
erally prevails. It does not take as important 
a place in their lives as it seems to have done 
among other African peoples. 
Occasionally, and as a very extreme measure, 
they will put a witch to death or force them to 
undergo (even as our own forefathers of the 
seventeenth century did) an ordeal that amounts 
practically to death. They are apt to follow 
the old Bible law which said : “Thou shalt not 
suffer a witch to live.” 
Lately I camped by the borders of a be¬ 
witched lake, and one page at least of its un¬ 
written story is curious and tragic enough. It 
is clear for an African lake and deep. A nar¬ 
row margin of weed and sedge extended a few 
feet from the shore. There are always wildfowl 
pn it, but I could discover no sign of fish life. 
Its height above the sea, over 8000 feet, forbids 
the possibility of crocodile. The natives assert 
positively that no one can swim in it and live. 
Just before my visit, a civil officer, in charge 
of a large gang of natives, working on the Gov¬ 
ernment road nearby, had witnessed a strange 
tragedy. He told me that a Dutchman with his 
wagon and “boys” had camped nearby. The 
Dutchman shot a duck, which fell some way out 
in the clear water beyond the weeds. He sent 
in his Kavorondo boy, who was a good swimmer, 
to get it. The lad had no difficulty in passing 
the weedy margin, and immediately struck out 
in the clear water. Just before reaching the 
duck, he gave one shrill cry, threw up his hands, 
and went down. Of course there was no boat. 
'I'he wood growing near the shore was too heavy 
to make a raft. No one could rescue him, nor 
retrieve the body. Next day it floated. None 
dare swim out to it, and a couple of rifle shots 
insured its only burial. This was the third man 
who had perished under almost similar circum¬ 
stances in a short time in that lake. Small won¬ 
der that the natives firmly believe that lake be¬ 
witched. Mr. - told me that he had been 
many years in Africa and had seen some strange 
things, but none stranger than this. 
Returning to the country after four years’ 
absence, I found, as I expected, a great change 
and diminution in its wild life. Great sections 
of the country where the soil is good and where 
game was therefore most abundant have been 
allotted to settlers, and though as yet but a 
small proportion of these are actually dwelling 
on their properties, the possession of the game 
has passed naturally with the land. Settlers, too, 
can buy game licenses at a reasonably low figure, 
and it is before the advent of the settler, not 
of the sportsman, that the wild life goes. It 
must be so; it should be so. It was so in our 
own Western land. Some animals, such as buf¬ 
falo, waterbuck and bushbuck, carry hides that 
are of considerable value for ox and horse harness 
and command locally quite a high price. Natu¬ 
rally these go first. Then the lesser buck, such 
as oraby, steinbuck, dinkdmck, supply the strug¬ 
gling new arrival with the only meat that is rea¬ 
sonably good. (No wild meat in Africa is really 
good, but strangely enough the halfbreed mutton, 
now being raised, is quite delicious.) So the 
small buck go, too. Lions are doomed when 
land is thrown open for settlement. They are 
too dangerous and too destructive. The settlers’ 
dogs rob their chase of most of its peril, and 
a poisoned carcass may make away with a dozen. 
Still even now there are a good many lions left. 
Between the first of last January (1912) and 
Oct. I of the same year, one man had shot 
eleven on a farm I camped at, and still one night 
while there I heard lions grunting at three dif¬ 
ferent points within, say, three miles, and I 
shot two in the immediate neighborhood myself. 
My friend, the farmer, had three fine oxen taken 
from his very tent door, and he struck on a 
method of shooting the thieves which, I think, 
is original so much so that I fancy few will 
care to follow his example. When he knew by 
the bellowing of his oxen in the kraal that a lion 
was at his door, he “induced” his wretched tent 
boy to come outside with him; he with his rifle, 
the boy with a lamp held high on his head. To¬ 
gether they moved round the place in the pitchy 
darkness, till by the raised lamp light he could 
make out the lion’s eyes shining. He shot, he 
told me, about eighteen inches below these, and 
then went back to his tent. Naturally, he did 
not push matters any further just then. The 
readers of Forest and Stream will, I think, 
agree with me when I say few men would have 
the nerve to push them so far. On none of the 
three occasions had the lion gone further than 
one hundred yards. He found them dead in 
the morning. Incidentally this man was guard¬ 
ing another man’s oxen. 
Man-eating lions are fortunately rare, but 
have sometimes to be reckoned with. Last year 
the Government road from Meru to Neri, one 
of the chief roads near Narobi, was closed to 
traffic for several months by man-eating lions. 
Accurate details of native losses are almost im¬ 
possible to get. The natives themselves are curi¬ 
ously silent when one of their own people is 
carried off. Certainly many lives were lost, and 
one of these lions was shot by a friend of mine 
as he charged full into his marching safari with¬ 
out any warning or the slightest provocation 
about 9 o’clock one fine morning. But that is 
another story, to be told in another letter. 
Liked Our Dec. 28(h Number. 
Minneapolis, Minn., Jan. 4 .—Editor Forest 
and Stream: I especially compliment you on 
your last number. It was excellent, and way 
and far above anything published in the outdoor 
literature world. And believe me, to eke out a 
compliment from me you have to “go some.” 
By the way, this story form of outdoor nature 
is most appealing; for instance, Burhans’ Christ¬ 
mas Turkey Hunt, and the one by Travis in the 
last number on Shark. 
You will hear quite a bit from me this com¬ 
ing year. Robert Page Lincoln. 
Forest and Stream is as characteristic as 
is the first robin that raises his voice in the 
spring. 
THE TOP RAIL. 
Jo Curtis, who owned land on which there 
was good shooting, decided to let it out by the 
day to whatever sportsman happened to come 
his way. One day a party arrived and paid a 
day’s hire. They tried to persuade the farmer 
to accompany them, but he noticed the way they 
held their guns, and declined. Instead, he gave 
them dogs and ferrets, told them where to find 
birds and rabbits, and bade them have a good 
day’s sport. 
There was an ample amount of banging as 
the day wore on, and in the afternoon one of 
the gunners returne_d to the farmhouse. 
“Hello!” said the farmer; “shot all the 
birds?” 
“Er—n-no,” hesitatingly replied the sports¬ 
man. 
“Been goin’ fer the rabbits, eh? Any luck?” 
“Not exactly,” said the other. 
“What have you come back for, then?’’ 
“Er—well, we want to know if you can let 
us have some more dogs and ferrets; we’ve used 
them all up.” 
* * * 
Bill Tiger, Bruce Thistle and John Holdback 
are being congratulated by their fellow members 
of the Cheese Box Club, of Irvington, N. J., for in¬ 
troducing a new stunt in hunting. On a former 
hunting trip this trio saw several English pheas¬ 
ants feeding near a cow, so when they arrived 
at Denmark recently they paid a dollar to a 
farmer for the loan of a bell that was attached 
to a cow’s neck, and fastening it on to John, 
the others started him off into the woods, hop¬ 
ing that the pheasants would hear the familiar 
sound and gather around. The scheme worked 
fine. The first pheasant to answer the decoy 
was so riddled with shot it looked as though 
it had passed through the gears of a trolley car. 
Emboldened by their success, John ran round 
and round in a circle, and before he dropped 
from exhaustion, three fine birds were killed. 
So true was the aim of Thistle and Tiger that 
not one of the birds was a fit subject for the 
taxidermist when they were picked up. They 
are going to trj' it again next season, but John 
refuses to play the cow. 
^ * 
M. H. Boals, eighty years of age, a pioneer 
hunter of Alton, made his annual duck hunting 
trip up the Illinois River this year, thus keep¬ 
ing alive the traditions of the Blue Grass Hunt¬ 
ing Club of Alton. This club was organized 
sixty years ago and was famous among the nim- 
rods of a preceding generation. There are but 
two surviving members, the other in addition to 
Boals being T. B. Geran, of Middletown, Ohio, 
now in his ninety-second year, and who has laid 
aside the gun and fishing rod forever. 
Grizzly King. 
