Cover art

"The Bengali hurled the canful at his head." See page 253.

SETTLERS AND SCOUTS

A TALE OF THE AFRICAN HIGHLANDS

BY

HERBERT STRANG

NEW EDITION

HUMPHREY MILFORD

OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS

LONDON, EDINBURGH, GLASGOW

TORONTO, MELBOURNE, CAPE TOWN, BOMBAY

REPRINTED 1922 IN GREAT BRITAIN BY R. CLAY AND SONS, LTD.,

BUNGAY, SUFFOLK.

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION

The present story completes a series of three books in which I have endeavoured to give impressions of life in the immense region known as Equatorial Africa. The scene of Tom Burnaby was laid in the centre, around the great lakes; Samba was concerned with the western or Congo districts; Settlers and Scouts is a story of the east, more especially the magnificent highland region which seems destined to become one of the greatest provinces of the British African Empire.

The steady stream of emigration already flowing to British East Africa is bound to swell when it is more generally recognized that in the hill districts of Kenya, Naivasha, and Kisumu there are vast areas of agricultural land constituting an ideal "white man's country." In the following pages I have attempted to show some of the conditions under which the pioneers of emigration must work. The development of communications and the settlement of the remoter regions will soon relegate such alarums and excursions as are here described to the romantic possibilities of the past. But it will be long before the lion, the rhinoceros, the hippopotamus and other more or less formidable neighbours cease to be factors with which the emigrant has to reckon.

For many facts, stranger by far than fiction, concerning the wild inhabitants, human and other, of this most interesting region, I am indebted to Mr. Arkell-Hardwick's An Ivory Trader in North Kenya and Colonel Patterson's Man-Eaters of Tsavo, among several important works that have appeared during recent years.

It may be added that in the spelling of native names I have sometimes rather consulted the reader's convenience than conformed strictly to rule. The name Wanderobbo, for instance, applied to an individual, is a solecism, the prefix Wa being a sign of the plural. But it seemed better to err than to afflict the reader with so uncouth a form as N'derobbo.

HERBERT STRANG.

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CONTENTS

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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

[THE BENGALI HURLED THE CANFUL AT HIS HEAD.]

[ONE OF THE WAKAMBA SLIPPED OFF WHEN HE WAS IN MID STREAM]

[THE BENGALI HURLED THE CANFUL AT HIS HEAD.]

[FERRIER RAISED HIS RIFLE, AND ... BROUGHT HIM DOWN WITH A BULLET THROUGH THE HEART]

[THE HIPPO GAVE A SNORT, AND THE WATER AROUND HIM WAS AGITATED AS BY AN IMMENSE CHURN]

[JOHN ORDERED HIS ASKARIS TO FIRE AMONG THE NEGROES ON THE LEFT BANK.]

MAPS

[PART OF BRITISH EAST AFRICA]

[ENVIRONS OF JUMA'S FORT]

[CHAPTER THE FIRST--The Emigrants]

The train was steaming over Mombasa Island, and Mr. David Halliday, ejaculating "Now we're off!" settled himself in his corner and comfortably fell asleep. Age has its weaknesses--or its privileges, according as you look at it. Not that Mr. Halliday was aged, or even old. He was nearly fifty, and might have passed for younger. His son, at any rate, was neither old nor sleepy. He was, in fact, but a few months past his seventeenth year; and being possessed of an average curiosity and a healthy interest in novel scenes, he looked with delight on the groves of lofty cocoa-nut palms, the wide-spreading mangoes and baobabs filled with chattering monkeys, and the long stretches of park-like glades, brilliant with flowers, through which runs the Uganda railway in the first stage of its long course to the shores of Victoria Nyanza.

Mr. Halliday, son of a Scots farmer who had emigrated from Ayrshire thirty years before, had been for many years agent--or "factor," as he, being a Scotsman, preferred to call himself--on the estates of Lord Sussex, who, as everybody knows, owns half the county from which his title is derived. He had managed to save some money during his stewardship, but having entrusted the greater part of it for investment to a bland London solicitor of his acquaintance, he had the misfortune to learn one day from the newspaper that the lawyer had absconded, leaving defalcations to the tune of some £50,000. A few weeks afterwards another calamity befell Mr. Halliday. His employer, a bachelor, died; the estates passed into the hands of a distant relative; and the new peer, taking alarm at the large sums demanded of him in the shape of death duties, announced his intention of cutting down expenses, and employing a younger man to steward his estates, at a lower salary. Luckily Mr. Halliday had a thousand or two safely invested, apart from what he had lost through the lawyer's rascality; and being disinclined, at his time of life, to seek similar employment, he cast about, during his six months' notice of the termination of his engagement, to find some new outlet for his energies and some secure channel for the use of his little capital.

The problem was complicated by the necessity of starting his son in life. He had intended David for one of the professions, and put him to a good school; but the boy had not shown any particular aptitude for book work, except in the one subject that interested him--natural history. He was never so happy as when he was with dogs and horses; he read with avidity every book about animals on which he could lay hands; and once, when his career was being talked about, he said bluntly that he knew he couldn't stand work at a desk in stuffy London, and implored his father to let him go out to Canada or Australia. Mr. Halliday merely grunted at the time; he was a man of few words; but he thought the matter out very carefully, and his attention having been called to the opening up of East Africa consequent upon the completion of the Uganda railway, he quietly made inquiries, obtained information about the country, its climate, soil, and prospects in regard to stock-raising, and one day startled his son with the news that he was going out in a few months to settle. Having once made up his mind he let no grass grow under his feet. One May day father and son left London in a Peninsular and Oriental Liner, transhipped at Aden into a vessel of the British India Steam Navigation Company, landed at Mombasa, and after spending a fortnight there in preliminary preparations, took tickets for Nairobi, three hundred and thirty miles down the line, whence they proposed to strike up country and select the ground for their settlement.

They travelled by the intermediate class--the third of the four classes into which passengers on the Uganda railway are divided. Mr. Halliday, as he said, had not come out to Africa for the fun of it and having spent considerably over £100 already in travelling expenses, he was not inclined to spend more was absolutely necessary now. By travelling intermediate, unusual though it was, they saved nearly a hundred rupees (the currency of British East Africa) on the first-class fare, and twenty-five on the second, and every rupee they could save would be of importance when they came to stock their ranch. "And I haven't taken return tickets, John," said Mr. Halliday.

Since the boy had been named David after his father, and had no other name, it is necessary to explain how he came to be called John. At school, his name being David, on the principle of association of ideas he was immediately dubbed Jonathan, though he might just as reasonably have been called Saul. Jonathan being too long was cut down to Johnny, and finally to John; and when one of his school-fellows, on a visit in the holidays, addressed him by this simple monosyllable, the name was laughingly accepted by his parents as an excellent means of distinguishing between the two Davids. People who knew him only as John were puzzled when he signed himself "D. Halliday," and one matter-of-fact lady was not quite pleased when he said gravely that, Prince Edward being known in the family circle as David, it was only right that David Halliday should be known as John. "I am glad I am not your godmother," she replied grimly.

John, then, as we, like all his intimates, will call him, smiled affectionately when he saw his father settle himself to slumber, and devoted his own very wide-awake eyes to the scenery. It was a feast for the senses and the imagination. The train, leaving Mombasa island for the mainland, runs through a tract of undulating richly-wooded country, with, here, groves of cocoa-nut palms and papaws; there, orchards of mangoes and cashew apples; anon, vast plantations of maize and millet and other grain crops. There is plenty of time to take in the details of this luxuriant panorama, for the train is climbing, climbing always, and the traveller is not whirled along at the bewildering speed of an English express. Leaning out of the window, and looking back over the route, John catches a last glimpse of the sea at Port Reitz, guarded by the Shimba hills, and realizes that a new chapter in his life is opening, full of romantic possibilities.

"A verree fine country, sir," says a thin staccato voice behind, and turning, he is smiled upon by a swarthy face, with black moustache and beard that have never known a razor, and surmounted by a spotless white turban.

"Magnificent," replies John, eyeing his fellow-passenger curiously.

"But this is not the best," says the man again. "We shall see, in due time, scenes of still more prepossessing appearance, together with myriads of four-footed beasts, et cetera."

"Indeed," says John, a trifle amused.

"Yes, sir. When we come to Tsavo we may behold lions, truly denominated the king of beasts, but no longer monarchs of all they survey, as William Cowper beautifully and poetically says. Man, sir, plays the very dickens with Nature; the surveyor molests the ancient solitary reign of Mr. Lion; he has to take a back seat."

John was quite unaccustomed to conversation interlarded with quotations from what he had at school irreverently called "rep.," and wondering what manner of man he had to do with he hazarded an indirect question.

"You seem to have read some of our poets," he said.

"Yes, sir, I am familiar with the masterpieces of English literature, edited with notes. My name, sir, is Said Mohammed, failed B.A. of Calcutta University."

"Failed B.A.?" said John, puzzled. He had met B.A.'s of several universities, and even junior masters who called themselves Inter. B.A. Lond. (honours); but a failed B.A. was a new species.

"Yes, sir; the honourable examiners formed a less elevated estimate of my intellectual attainments than was reasonably anticipated, and when the list was published, lo! my name was conspicuous by its absence. But that is a bagatelle. The honorific distinction--what is it but the guinea stamp? It is work, sir, that ennobles. I have accumulated a priceless store of knowledge; I am all there, I assure you."

John thought it only polite to murmur an assent to this, but he felt himself ill equipped to sustain a conversation on the dizzy heights to which Said Mohammed appeared inclined to ascend, and turning once more to the window, he viewed in silence the ever-changing scenery. The luxuriant vegetation of the coastal region had given place to a vast plateau covered with a dense scrub of umbrella-shaped acacias, with patches of dry grass, and here and there a massive baobab rearing its antic form from out the undergrowth. He was interested in the little stations, with their trim flower-beds and home-like appointments, at which the train stopped at intervals of several miles; and gave but perfunctory answers to the Bengali, who kept up, with every appearance of pleasure, a continual flow of talk, informing him that this tree was an aristolochia and that an aloe, and calling his attention at one spot to a herd of sable antelopes which were startled by the train as they drank at a stream, and dashed off into the jungle. "Their scientific name, sir, is Hippotragus niger," said Said Mohammed, and Mr. Halliday waking at this point, the Bengali favoured him with a smile, and said, "A verree fine country, sir; good-morning."

They took their lunch at Mackinnon Road station, at the foot of the Taru hills. Refreshed by his sleep and the meal, Mr. Halliday began to take more interest in things in general, and John having introduced Said Mohammed (mentioning impressively that he was a failed B.A. of Calcutta University), a three-cornered conversation was begun, in which the Bengali fluently expounded his views on many subjects.

"Yes, sir," said he, when the question of the treatment of native races cropped up, "that is a subject to which I have devoted considerable acumen. Is it just, I ask you, is it worthy of this immense and glorious empire on which the sun never sits, that the natives, the primordial owners of the soil, should be laid under such restrictions as are now in force? Are we Indians not subjects of the same gracious and glorious majesty, F.D., et cetera? Have we not shed our blood in defence of the Union Jack? Are we not ready to fight and conquer again and again like your jolly tars and all? And yet my countrymen, to wit, are not allowed in South Africa the full rights of citizens; and in this country, where this verree railway was built by the labour of Indians, it is becoming the rule to refuse them grants of land. Is this sauce for the gander, I ask you, gentlemen?"

"It's a very ticklish subject," said Mr. Halliday, "and I don't profess to understand it. I dare say those zebras yonder--look at them, John, hundreds of 'em--think it great impudence on the part of this engine to run snorting through their grounds. But the engine runs all the same."

At Tsavo the line crossed the river Athi. John looked out eagerly for a glimpse of the lions which were said to infest this region, but to his disappointment saw none. Indeed, as the train passed through mile after mile of uninteresting scrub, he began to feel that his first enthusiasm for the country was premature. But at Kibwezi the line enters another belt of forest, the trees looped together with festooning creepers, and filled with chattering monkeys and barking baboons; the undergrowth brilliant with colour, both of the flowers and of birds and butterflies innumerable. Some miles farther on, at Makindu, the forest yields to rich pasture land, the undulating plain stretching on both sides of the line, broken by streams whose beds are lined with date-palms and firs. All the vegetation was fresh and vivid through recent rains, and Mr. Halliday, viewing the country with a stock-breeder's eye, now for the first time allowed a remark on the scenery to pass his lips. "That's grand!" he said; and when the rumbling of the train set startled herds of antelope and gazelle, red congoni and black wildebeeste, scampering over the plain, he stood up in the carriage and gazed at them with kindling admiration.

The oppressive heat of the morning had now given place to a pleasant coolness, with a crisp exhilarating breeze. When John expressed his surprise at this, within a degree or two of the Equator, Said Mohammed explained that they were now four or five thousand feet above sea-level, among the Highlands of East Africa, where Europeans may live in health and comfort. By the time they reached Nairobi, indeed, the evening air was so chill that both Englishmen were glad to don their overcoats. Said Mohammed deferentially took leave of them on the platform of the station, and disappeared among a crowd of Orientals gathered there; while Mr. Halliday inquired for the coffee-planter to whom he had an introduction, and who had offered him the hospitality of his bungalow so long as he remained in Nairobi.

[CHAPTER THE SECOND--Said Mohammed, failed B.A.]

Nairobi was disappointing. At a distance it looked like a cluster of tin cottages, and though these appeared larger and more substantial on a nearer view, they retained the dreary aspect of makeshift which corrugated iron always gives. Mr. Gillespie, however, the coffee-planter with whom the Hallidays were to stay, was hospitality itself; he and his good wife received their visitors with real Scottish heartiness of welcome. They gave them a capital dinner, and made them feel thoroughly at home.

Mr. Gillespie was much amused when, in answering his question about their journey from Mombasa, John told him of Said Mohammed, failed B.A.

"I'm that myself," he said, with a comical smile--"failed M.A. of Glasgow, though I don't call myself so. Professor Ramsay's Latin Composition fair stuck me, that's a fact. Man, these Indians are a problem. We've some thousands of them here, industrious, quick, and able to live on next to nothing, which we Scotsmen have got out of the way of. I believe in free trade, when it is free; but I don't believe in free competition with people who can beat us hollow, and these Indians will do that if we let 'em. We're bound to put restrictions on them."

"But they're British subjects, sir," John was beginning.

"Aye," interrupted Mr. Gillespie, "and so are the lions and rhinoceros of these parts, and we have to fight 'em. A country can't belong to both wild beasts and men; nor can it belong to black men and white; one or other must go to the wall. Not that the Indians are wild beasts, or even black; on the contrary, they're very decent folk in the main, and that's the worst of it. The only solution I see is to let them develop the Lowlands where we can't live, and to keep the Highlands for ourselves. Man, it's a grand country."

After dinner Mr. Gillespie led his guests to the verandah, and providing them with deck-chairs and cigars, discussed with them their immediate future.

"We've a decent club here; I'll introduce you to-morrow, Halliday. You can get a round of golf; and there are several young lassies who'll play lawn tennis all day with your son if he wishes."

"Don't speak of it, man," said Mr. Halliday hastily. "We're out on business--strictly on business, and we've no time for playing till we've fixed on our land. Where is this Mount Kenya, anyway? John Gilmour--d'ye know him?--was out hunting a while ago, and he wrote me he'd found the very place for me, somewhere south-east of Mount Kenya; he stuck a post in the ground to mark the spot, and I've the directions written down somewhere."

"Mount Kenya's a bit north-east of us, a hundred miles or so. Fine country, too."

"And how do you get there?"

"Well, the ground's not exactly fit for motor-cars yet, and horses don't thrive. You can get mules, but they're apt to be a trouble, so I guess you'd better tramp it. You'll have to carry food with you, and a load of 'trade' for the natives; we'll have to see about getting carriers for you; you pay 'em about four rupees a month, and feed 'em. Their food don't cost much; you can get a hundredweight of native grain and red beans for three or four rupees, and if you're good shots you can provide yourselves with plenty of meat on the way."

"There's no fear of trouble with the natives, I suppose?"

"Not if you don't go too far north. South of Kenya they're friendly enough as a rule, but there are wild tribes on the east and north. You must have two porters who can shoot; Sniders they're used to; but don't let 'em use them except in case of necessity. Do all the game shooting yourselves, and keep a firm hand on the men; they'll play you all manner of tricks if you don't. They're the queerest people God ever made, that's a fact. They'll desert at any moment and forfeit their pay, for no reason at all that we can understand. I could tell you of men who'll carry a load of ninety pounds or more every day for a month on end, and then all at once decamp, hundreds of miles away from their home, and with no earthly chance of getting there. But you'll find 'em out for yourselves."

The talk lasted far into the night, Mr. Gillespie giving advice and retailing reminiscences of his own early days as a settler, which John drank in eagerly. Next day they set about collecting porters for the journey. The news that a white man was going up country had already spread through the native quarter of the town, and Mr. Gillespie's office was besieged by a great crowd of black men, representing a score of different races, all eager to join the stranger's "safari." The experience of the coffee-planter was very useful at this juncture, and the Hallidays were quietly amused as he dismissed man after man with little ceremony and a curtness of speech which, had they understood it (he spoke in Swahili, the common vehicle of intercourse between European and native), would have amused them still more. A little M'kamba would come forward with a smile. "You're a thief; be off," said Mr. Gillespie, and the man went away, still smiling. A hulking Swahili appears, a sullen look on his face. "You're always quarrelling; be off," says Mr. Gillespie, and the Swahili retires, to join the crowd of rejected. At length half-a-dozen men were selected, three Swahilis, of whom Coja ben Selim, a big, good-tempered-looking fellow, was to be headman; and three Wakamba. Mr. Gillespie was doubtful whether so small a safari would suffice; but Mr. Halliday was bent on economy; he argued that he could not in any case afford an escort large enough to cope with a serious native attack, and further, that a party of modest dimensions was not so likely to provoke hostility as a large one. Moreover, he intended to pay only a flying visit to the site of his proposed settlement, for the purpose of a preliminary survey. If he was pleased with the country, he intended to mark out the ground and put in an application to the Land Commissioner for a lease of a thousand acres or so. With luck, a month would suffice for this prospecting journey, which incidentally, as Mr. Gillespie informed him, would absolve him from paying registration fees on his porters, such fees only being necessary when they were engaged for two months or more.

It remained to hire a cook for the expedition.

"We don't need a cook," said Mr. Halliday. "I've roughed it often enough; we can do our own cooking."

"Man, you're a tenderfoot," said Mr. Gillespie, laughing. "You must have a cook. Your men would all mutiny if you didn't. I don't mean that he would cook for them; they'll have their own cooking-pots; but they wouldn't obey you for a day if they saw you cooking for yourself. The first maxim for a white man in this country is: 'Never do a black man's work.' Order your men about as much as you please, but don't do anything."

"But that's a doctrine of the dark ages. Confound it, man, that's the kind of thing we shook off centuries ago. I'm not a duke."

"That's just exactly what you are here. The natives will regard you as their lord and master, and if you don't act up to the part--why, man, I think the Governor will expel you as an undesirable alien. In short, you must have a cook."

Here Mr. Gillespie's native servant came in to say that an Indian gentleman desired to see him.

"Send him in," said Mr. Gillespie, and there entered, suave and smiling, Said Mohammed, failed B.A. He bowed respectfully--a little too respectfully, thought John--to his acquaintances of the day before; then, addressing himself to Mr. Gillespie, he said--

"Having learnt in the bazaar, sir, that the esteemed gentleman in whose company I had the honour to travel yesterday is engaging a safari, I embrace the opportunity of submitting tender of my services in unremitting attention to the interior economy--soups, joints, sweets, et cetera, or, as one might say, hoc genus omne, as it were."

John opened his eyes. Apparently the failed B.A. was offering himself as cook; but John thought he must be mistaken. Mr. Gillespie, however, after a stare at his visitor, said in a severely practical tone--

"You have experience?"

"Yes, sir, I am experientia docet with several years' standing, and testimonials galore. Videlicet, the Central Restaurant, sir, in London, continuously chock-a-block on curry day when my dishes, prepared Indian fashion, were the delight of city gents and ladies of prepossessing appearance who feed there regular as clock-work. In soup, joint, entrée I am a don; in sauce I am a wily adept."

"Come up to my bungalow and cook my dinner to-night," said Mr. Gillespie.

"Verree good, sir. The proof of the pudding is in the mastication thereof. Good-morning, sir, and assuring you of my best services at all times."

There was a laugh when Said Mohammed had gone.

"He'll never do," said Mr. Halliday.

"Man, if he's any good at all he'll be a perfect treasure," said Mr. Gillespie. "And you'll have to pay him fifty rupees a month."

"Near £3 a month for cooking?" cried Mr. Halliday. "Can't afford it."

"But, my dear sir, you can't get any sort of a cook here for less than thirty rupees; and our failed B.A., if he's worth his salt, will be worth fifty. He will at least be clean; it's a part of his religion."

"Well, perhaps he's a failure all round. Anyway, we don't want kickshaws, and a cheaper man will do all we need."

But the dinner at Mr. Gillespie's that night turned out excellent--well cooked, well served, and varied though simple dishes.

"Faith, Halliday," said the host, "if you don't engage the man I'll take him myself. That'll bring you up to the scratch if you've any Scotch blood left in you."

Whether it was due to this provocation or not, Mr. Halliday engaged Said Mohammed next day, for a month. Then, having been advised of the inexpediency of delay, which might be taken advantage of by his porters to desert, he decided to set off the same day, as soon as the hottest hours were past. He sent Said Mohammed into the bazaar to buy the necessary amount of food-stuff for the natives; Mr. Gillespie undertook the purchase of small quantities of "trade"--sheeting, coloured cloths, and beads for the most part; Mr. Halliday himself bought a small tent, provisions, blankets, rifles and ammunition, and a few cheap utensils. All these articles were sent up to the bungalow. At three o'clock Said Mohammed and the six porters arrived and set about packing up, under Mr. Gillespie's directions. Within an hour the loads were packed and placed in a line on the ground.

"Now, Halliday," said Mr. Gillespie, "it's up to you. You must give each man his proper load, and don't be jockeyed."

There was a twinkle in his eye which Mr. Halliday detected.

"Are you setting a trap for me?" he asked.

"No, no, man; but as you're to be master, the sooner you feel your feet the better."

Whereupon Mr. Halliday, who was not without courage as well as shrewd common-sense, instantly confided the tent and personal baggage to two of the three Swahilis, and distributed the remaining loads among the three Wakamba by a rough and ready estimate of their muscular capabilities. Then began what John called the "fun." The Swahilis accepted their loads without a murmur; were they not the best fitted to carry the bwana's belongings? But one of the Wakamba, a stout little fellow with one eye, uttered a terrible wail when he lifted his bundle to his back, and, letting it down again, began to expostulate in a torrent of gibberish, of which the bwana, of course, understood not a word. The others instantly followed his example, and all three began to wrangle and gesticulate and abuse one another with a deafening clamour. It was plain that every man wanted the load of somebody else. Mr. Halliday looked on calmly for a few moments, Mr. Gillespie curiously watching to see what he would do, and placidly smoking a cigar without offering any suggestion. Suddenly Mr. Halliday called to Coja ben Selim, the Swahili, and the only man whose name he knew.

"You're headman; settle it," he said calmly, turning on his heel. "I give you five minutes."

The big Swahili instantly went among the Wakamba, cuffing them right and left. In less than five minutes peace was restored, the Wakamba slung their loads to their backs, passing the long loop of raw hide around their foreheads; the Swahilis set theirs upon their heads; and the cry of "Safari! safari!" indicated that they were ready to be off.

"A capital start, Halliday," said Mr. Gillespie. "Good luck to ye."

Mr. Halliday and John shook hands heartily with their host and hostess, and taking their rifles under their arm, set off after the little caravan, the leader of which had already started a marching song. Said Mohammed, carrying a little bundle of his own, brought up the rear, with Coja ben Selim.

[CHAPTER THE THIRD--In a Game-Pit]

John felt all the thrilling excitement of a new experience. There was nothing romantic, it is true, in trudging along at two miles an hour over a decent road, which led at first through the spacious estates of colonists who had already settled in the neighbourhood of the town. But he knew that before long the caravan would enter a wild, unsettled region, swarming with game large and small, holding innumerable possibilities of encounters with strange beasts and men. And though there was nothing novel in the mere exercise of walking, it was both new and amusing to find himself in company with African natives, marching stolidly along under heavy loads, to a monotonous chant kept up by their leader, who repeated the same words endlessly. Curious to know what the man was singing, he asked Coja ben Selim, the only man of them that knew English. The Swahili gave him a wide grin and said it was all nonsense, and when John pressed him for the exact meaning he prevaricated and looked uncomfortable. The song was, in fact, an impromptu one, and the words, literally translated, meant nothing more than "Two more white men; oh, what noses! Oh, what legs!" and if John had known he would only have wondered what amusement the porters could have derived from the constant repetition of such an uninspired and uninspiring refrain. He made up his mind to learn the native tongue as soon as possible.

After they had walked for three or four miles it became suddenly dark, but there was no pause, Mr. Gillespie having advised that they should take advantage of the cool hours, and do a good ten miles before camping for the night. A new moon shed a little light upon the path, which, as the scattered cultivated districts were left behind, entered a region of long grass and belts of forest land. Presently they heard the rushing noise of water, and came to the brink of a deep ravine, whose bottom they could not see for the trees and dense undergrowth with which it was clothed. Coja ben Selim was for crossing the ravine; he said he knew of a fine place for camping a little beyond it; but Mr. Halliday was not inclined to risk a broken leg, and decided to camp in a glade on the nearer bank, and to attempt the crossing by daylight. The loads were set down, the tent was pitched, and a fire lighted; soon the men were cooking their simple supper, chattering cheerfully; and Said Mohammed, opening up the stores, produced some cocoa, tinned milk and biscuits, and in a few minutes provided his employers with a simple meal. Mr. Halliday discussed the advisability of setting a watch during the night, but Coja said that there were no black men in the neighbourhood, and the fires would keep off wild animals; so the two Englishmen wrapped their blankets around them, and slept soundly till the dawn.

Mr. Gillespie had given his guests some instruction in the general conduct of a safari, so that when Mr. Halliday put his head out of the tent and called to the headman to take up the loads, there was a brisk movement among the porters to the pile in which their bundles had been stacked during the night. They laid them in a row for inspection, first lashing to them their mats and cooking-pots. When this was done, they squatted down to eat a few roasted grains of muhindi (maize), and while the Swahilis struck the tent and tied up the bedding, the two Englishmen having rapidly dressed, Said Mohammed prepared breakfast of tinned meat, biscuits, and tea. Then, to the customary cry of "Safari!" the porters lifted their loads, the utensils were quickly packed, and while the dawn was still grey the little party left the camp and began the descent of the ravine. Looking back as he came to the brink, John saw a hyena slink out of the undergrowth and steal past the smouldering embers of the fires, and birds like kites swoop down with rushing wings, soaring up again with some remnant of food in their talons. He felt now that his new strange life was beginning indeed.

PART OF BRITISH EAST AFRICA

The descent was safely made, the river waded, and climbing up the further side, the travellers found themselves entering a region of bush and thorns and tall rank grass, in the midst of which they heard at times a swishing sound as some animal, invisible, darted away from before them. They had left the road leading to Fort Hall, the nearest Government station, and struck off in a direction north by east. The leader picked his way steadily, following the track of an animal, the others close behind him, though after a time some of the porters, weaker or less willing than the rest, began to lag behind. Though it was still early morning, John found it already uncomfortably hot, and, taking off his coat, gave it to Coja. Once or twice he removed his sun-helmet also, but Said Mohammed, at this, came to his side, and said, very respectfully--

"Ten thousand pardons, sir, but a word to the wise: never expose your manly brow to the solar luminary. In a brace of shakes you will have sunstroke."

"But there is no sun; I shan't hurt with this mist over the ground," John protested.

"It is human to err, sir. You cannot see the sun, but he sees you, and lo! in a moment he smites you, and it is no go. The head, sir, is the weaker vessel."

"Put on your hat, John," said Mr. Halliday. "We don't want to run any risks."

By and by the mist cleared, and having reached a ridge bare of trees, the travellers suddenly caught sight of Mount Kenya in the distance, rearing itself from the plain by such gentle slopes that it was hard to believe that its summit was 14,000 feet above sea-level and covered with snow. Its peaks were swathed in cloud; indeed, only once or twice during many months did the travellers catch a glimpse of them. Then the view was magnificent, and for the first time in his life John felt a longing to climb a mountain.

Every day's programme was the same. They started early. After a march of two hours a halt was called, to allow the laggards to come up with the party. Then the march was resumed, and continued until the sun's heat became unendurable, and the men clamoured for a long rest. One day at this time Mr. Halliday, selecting a glade shaded by immense trees, bade the men set down their loads, and take a siesta. The resting-place was not so well chosen as it had appeared to be; a stream ran close by, and the travellers had hardly settled themselves when they were beset by innumerable red ticks, which clung to the white men's clothing and bit their skin savagely, sparing the natives. The Hallidays, finding their attacks intolerable, sprang up and went on, instructing Coja to follow them when the porters were sufficiently rested. They had not gone far when they saw a herd of congoni, an animal of the antelope kind, dashing across the plain, and John fingered his rifle longingly. But Mr. Halliday would not permit him to go in chase of them.

"We shall have plenty of sport by and by," he said, "and we don't want to heat ourselves or lose touch with the men."

He had scarcely spoken when John caught sight of another safari coming across a ridge in the distance. Mr. Halliday thought it prudent to halt until they were rejoined by the rest of their party, and they threw themselves down under a baobab to wait for them. It was two hours before they came up, and the march had just been resumed when they heard shots, and saw a number of black men rushing towards them at full speed. Mr. Halliday was a little alarmed, thinking that an attack was imminent; but in a few moments Coja told him that the approaching men were plainly porters, for they were unarmed, but they bore no loads, and he suggested that something had frightened them.

In a few minutes the first of the runaways came up, and began to talk excitedly to Coja, who informed Mr. Halliday that the men were indeed porters belonging to a safari returning to Nairobi, and that a rhinoceros had just charged them, whereupon they had flung down their loads and bolted.

"Where is their master?" asked Mr. Halliday.

The man, who had been joined by several of his comrades, pointed back in the direction whence he had come. No white man, however, was in sight, and Mr. Halliday decided to hurry on and see what had become of him, ordering the men to follow, which they were plainly reluctant to do. He came within half-a-mile to the scene of the stampede, the loads of the porters strewing the grass; but there was no sign either of the rhinoceros or of the young white man who, as the scared natives said, was the master of the safari. Coja declared that the bwana must have been gored or trampled by the rhinoceros, and suggested that they should hurry on and get out of danger as quickly as possible; but Mr. Halliday would not hear of leaving the spot until he had made an effort to find the unfortunate traveller. He ordered the men to set down their loads and remain with them while he made a search, and asked whether any of them could follow a rhinoceros trail. One and all first denied that they had ever seen a rhinoceros; but Mr. Halliday sternly told Coja that they would have no supper unless they recovered their memory, and then Coja himself reluctantly admitted that if the trail was very clear, and if the white men would go one on each side of him with their guns, he would try to lead them after the animal.

As a matter of fact, the trail was easily found, the ground being soft and the grass heavily trampled. It led them into a dense mass of bush. Mr. Halliday, holding his rifle ready for the least sign of danger, plunged into the jungle with John and Coja, the latter soon declaring that he saw, together with the great hoof-marks of the animal, forming paths on both sides of a ridge of grass, the smaller and fainter tracks made by a white man's boots.

"Him killed dead, sure 'nuff," said Coja solemnly. "No good look no more."

"We'll make sure of it. Go on," said Mr. Halliday, and the three continued to follow the trail.

"What's that?" cried John suddenly, a few minutes later.

"White man call; him no dead yet," said Coja.

"Hallo!" shouted Mr. Halliday, and a faint "Hallo!" came in answer.

Coja turned a little to the right, in the direction of the sound. Mr. Halliday called again, and again the answer came, louder, but still curiously muffled. Led by the sound, they now left the trail of the rhinoceros, and had proceeded but a few steps farther when Coja suddenly came to a halt, and bursting into laughter, cried, "Him down there!"

"Where?" said Mr. Halliday in amazement, looking about him. And then he saw, in the midst of the grass, a deep hole, and at the bottom, nine or ten feet below the surface, a young white man sitting cross-legged.

"Hallo!" he said, looking up with a smile. "I thought it was my brother, though it wasn't like his shout. Can you help me out? I'm afraid I've sprained my ankle."

"Of course we can," said Mr. Halliday, "but I'd like to know what on earth you are doing there."

"Thanking my stars I'm not skewered," said the other. "Let down your rifle, will you? Perhaps I can manage to scramble out; but don't let me drag you down."

Mr. Halliday lowered his rifle, holding it by the barrel, having first taken the precaution of emptying the breech; and the prisoner took it by the stock, and tried to clamber up the side of the hole. But he winced as his right foot touched the earth, and after a few moments said--

"I'm afraid I can't manage it. My ankle has got a twist. If you'll shout for my men I'll get one of them to make a sling of rope and haul me out."

"We needn't wait for that," said John. "I'll jump down and give you a lift."

"Look out, then. There's a pointed stake in the ground here which I only escaped by a hair's breadth. Jump to the left. It's uncommon good of you."

John leapt down, and making a pick-a-back, got the stranger to mount and then to stand erect on one foot. His head was now just below the level of the pit.

"I'm afraid we're not much for'arder," he said, with a smile.

"Can't you get your elbows on the edge and hoist yourself up?" suggested John.

"Can't reach. You'd better let me down."

"I'll tell you what," said John: "cut a notch in the wall for your foot. Then you can hoist yourself up by the rifle until you are high enough to get your elbows on; then it'll be easy. The earth is pretty soft."

Sitting with his legs over John's shoulders, the stranger soon cut a notch with his knife; and in a few minutes he was hauled to the surface.

"I'm much obliged to you. I might have stayed there till I starved for all my men would have troubled."

"How did you manage to fall in?" asked Mr. Halliday.

"A rhinoceros charged us as we were crossing the foot of the kopje yonder. He sprang out from behind a small mountain of an ant-hill. My men instantly flung down their loads and bolted--idiots! and as we're rather short of meat I thought I'd try to get within shot of the beast. I was following him up when the earth gave way under me, and I found myself in this old game-pit, and don't know how I managed to escape the skewer sticking up at the bottom, as long as my arm. I say, you haven't happened to see anything of my brother, I suppose?"

"We met nobody but your men," said Mr. Halliday. "Has your brother lost himself?"

"Old Joe lost! Not a bit of it," cried the young man. "He'll turn up all right. He left me a couple of hours ago to shoot something for to-night's pot, and I thought you might have come across him. I'm rather a nuisance, I'm afraid; I can't put my left foot to the ground, and our last donkey died four days ago, so that I can't ride. We've had uncommon bad luck with our donkeys. As a rule they're hardy in this climate, we were told; but every one of the six we started with has died. Really, I am a nuisance, keeping you here."

"Nonsense," said Mr. Halliday. "Coja, shout for some of our men."

"No come, master," said Coja. "Berry much 'fraid."

"If he goes and calls our headman a coward I think it will answer," said the stranger. "Headmen are very jealous of each other."

Coja entered into the spirit of the suggestion, and ran back over the tracks. In a few minutes the sounds of angry altercation came through the bush, and Coja reappeared, in company with a white-clad Somali, each man abusing the other at the top of his voice. Mr. Halliday silenced them sternly, and ordered them to construct a litter, promising a few cents to the man who did the larger share of the work. They set to work at once, weaving strands of creeping plants and stalks of grass with amazing rapidity. In less than twenty minutes a sheet of matting was finished and firmly bound to two rifles, and on this extemporized litter the stranger was carried between the headmen back to the open ground.

On the way he explained that his name was Oliver Browne, "commonly called Poll," and that he came from Cape Colony. With his elder brother he had been shooting and prospecting in North Kenya and Gallaland, and they had thoughts of settling in British East Africa, which seemed to offer better prospects than they could see in South Africa.

"I suppose you're on the same job," he concluded.

"Well, we're going to have a look round," replied Mr. Halliday cautiously. "We're on a flying visit, you see."

"And I'm a nuisance, hindering you like this. Here are my wretched men; I shall be all right now; and I can't thank you enough. We may meet again, if we decide to come north. Good-bye. And I say, if you meet that brother of mine, please tell him to hurry up, for if another rhinoceros takes a fancy to charge us, and I can't bring him down, I shall be a mangled corpse in no time."

"Hadn't we better stay with you till your brother turns up?" said John.

"Not at all. The plain is pretty open here, and a rhinoceros could not take us unawares. I shall go on slowly, and camp when I come to a suitable place, and my men will rig up a boma in no time. Good-bye again."

The matting had been transferred to two of the Brownes' rifles, and the men of each party having collected and shouldered their loads, they set off in opposite directions, the two headmen hurling abuse at each other as long as they remained in sight. Coja was particularly indignant because his rival had received the reward for completing the greater portion of the litter; but after a little Mr. Halliday consoled him by saying, casually, that his portion had been the more closely knit, so that he should receive a reward also.

"Dat oder fella no good, what I say," remarked Coja.

Half-an-hour after they had parted with Oliver Browne, they met a white man whom at the first glance they knew to be his brother, so striking was the resemblance. He was attended by four porters, each carrying a large portion of some newly-killed animal. Mr. Halliday halted as they came up, saying--

"You're Mr. Joe Browne?"

"That I am, but----" He paused, looking puzzled.

"You don't know me," said Mr. Halliday, "so you needn't rack your memory. We've just met your brother. He was after a rhinoceros and tumbled into a game-pit."

"Clumsy ass!" cried Mr. Browne, in the manner of an affectionate brother. "No bones broke, I hope?"

Mr. Halliday reassured him on that point, and the two stood for a few minutes exchanging notes. The South African said that he had been much attracted by what he had seen of the country, and if Mr. Halliday became a settler, he would in all probability have him for a neighbour.

"But it won't be yet," he added. "We must settle up our affairs at the Cape first. Three or four months, perhaps; you'll have grown your first crops by then. Don't shoot all the game before I come."

"You have left us some, I hope," said John, eyeing the porters' burdens.

"Oh, that's a couple of water-buck for the pot. You'll find bigger game than that. Hippo meat's uncommonly good, but don't try elephant's foot; it's a fraud. Don't believe any one who tells you to the contrary. Good-bye; pleased to have met you; bar rhinoceros or game-pits we'll meet again."

[CHAPTER THE FOURTH--White Man's Magic]

When John found opportunity to put pen to paper, he wrote, as he said, "loads" to a school chum about the incidents of the next few days, every one furnishing a new excitement. Mr. Halliday was so anxious to accomplish the aim of his journey that he pushed on resolutely each day, striking camp at earliest dawn, marching with intervals until ten, resting until three or four, and then going on again until nightfall. The ground was varied, now a stretch of grass land, now a belt of forest; here a rapidly flowing stream rushing between high banks covered with dense vegetation, there a tract of hard volcanic soil so rugged and hot under the sun's rays that walking was painful. It was only during the intervals for rest that John was able to indulge his sporting tastes, and at the same time do service to the commissariat. He caught some fine fish in the rivers, and wished there had been time to follow up the hippopotamus tracks he discovered on the banks. He brought down several water-buck and red congoni with his .303 rifle, and one day was vastly excited to see a black-maned lion with his lioness cross from one patch of reeds to another. The sight of other game in wonderful variety--zebras, leopards, antelopes--became so common that after a time it ceased to be impressive, and opportunities for shooting them came but rarely, the country they frequented being flat and open, and their scent being so keen that it was almost impossible to come within range.

One incident that gave a little excitement was the crossing of the Thika river. The water was so deep and the current so swift that to ford it was impossible, and after vainly searching for a shallow part, Mr. Halliday confessed himself at a loss to know how to proceed. John suggested that they should fell a tree and throw it across the river as a bridge, but this would be a somewhat lengthy operation; and Said Mohammed said it would take less time to construct a raft. This was accordingly done, by lashing together three dead logs found on the bank; but Mr. Halliday asked how it was to be prevented from being swept away by the stream. Coja showed himself to be a man of resource. Taking a rope between his teeth, he plunged into the river, first looking warily round to make sure that no crocodiles were in the neighbourhood, and swam across, the force of the current giving his course an inclination of sixty degrees. Having reached the other side, he fastened the rope to a tree, and by aid of this line the raft was ferried over, conveying now the loads and now the men. One of the Wakamba slipped off when he was in midstream, and instantly howled that a crocodile was after him; but Coja called him a liar, sprang after him, and catching him by the hair, towed him safely to the farther bank.

"One of the Wakamba slipped off when he was in midstream."

Hitherto the party had met no natives; but Coja now informed his master that the people of these parts were very bad, and advised that they should go slowly, so that no stragglers should be left to be set on and robbed--if not maltreated or killed. Mr. Halliday was somewhat troubled at the thought of unfriendly natives between his prospective estate and the outposts of civilization; but consoled himself with the reflection that the area of settlements was rapidly enlarging, and the country in the settled parts being brought thoroughly under control.

The country beyond the Thika river proved to be more difficult than any that had hitherto been traversed. Bare rocky hills, cut by deep and dangerous ravines, alternated with stretches of long coarse grass and dense thorny scrub, impenetrable save by low tunnels made by roaming hippopotami. As they burrowed painfully through these tunnels, they were oppressed by the suffocating heat, their clothes were torn by the thorns, and their skin irritated by the multitudinous insects. It was like wandering through a complex maze, the hippo paths twisting this way and that in apparently aimless fashion, though Coja said they were a clear sign of the neighbourhood of water. After a whole day spent in this fatiguing march the party came abruptly upon a broad river, flowing with swift but almost noiseless current between banks clad with noble palms and every species of tropical vegetation, amid which countless throngs of monkeys desported themselves, and birds of many colours darted this way and that like fragments of a rainbow. Mr. Halliday pitched his camp for the night above the river, and for the first time the porters surrounded it with a boma--a close fence of thorn bushes, which they constructed with wonderful celerity. For the first time, too, a watch was kept, the porters being told off to take turns at sentry-go. It occurred to Mr. Halliday, waking in the middle of the night, to see whether the sentry was alert at his post, and he was not greatly surprised to find him fast asleep. He shook him up and rated him very soundly, his reprimand being, perhaps, the more impressive because delivered in a tongue which the man did not understand. Mr. Halliday slept no more that night, coming to the conclusion that if it was necessary to keep watch, the porters were not to be entrusted with the task.

It was next day that the party first encountered the native inhabitants. They came upon a luxuriant plantation of manioc, and shortly afterwards saw a number of fierce-looking men, armed with spears, lurking in the long grass. Mr. Halliday ordered Coja to go forward and explain that he was a friend, bent on a peaceful errand, and that he would give good prices for any food the people cared to bring him. One of the natives ran back to the village, and soon returned with the chief, who presented a singular appearance in a ragged and stained khaki jacket, and a dilapidated sun-helmet with an ostrich feather stuck in it at a rakish angle. It turned out that this was not his usual attire, but had been hastily donned in honour of the white man.

"He seems a very respectable old guy," said Mr. Halliday to John as the chief came up with a broad smile. With Coja's aid as interpreter, Mr. Halliday repeated what had already been said to the men, and as an earnest of what was to come, presented the chief with a number of coloured beads, feeling somewhat doubtful whether such trifles were worth the acceptance of one who, as his dress showed, had already had some intercourse with Europeans. But the chief showed unmistakable pleasure, and immediately sent two of his young men to bring wild honey and gourds of milk for the wasungu. Presently a number of women came, bearing loads of water-melons and other vegetables, which were very welcome after the dry fare of the past few days, the vendors being thoroughly satisfied with a handful of red beads or a short strip of cloth.

Mr. Halliday had directed the course of his march, under Coja's guidance, according to instructions and a rough map given him by his friend Gilmour. The district recommended to him as an excellent site for his farm lay on high ground to the east of Mount Kenya, and Mr. Gilmour had marked the exact spot by erecting a post, the top of which was carved to the shape of a man's head. When Mr. Halliday expressed a doubt whether the post would still be found after the lapse of several years, his friend reassured him on the point, declaring that the natives would not touch it, and unless it had been thrown down by a sportive rhinoceros, or "collected" as an object of interest by some wandering European sportsman, it would remain precisely as he had left it. Mr. Halliday, judging by his sketch-map that he must have nearly reached his destination, got Coja to ask the natives whether they knew of this post, and was disappointed with their negative answer. There was nothing for it but to continue the march. Accordingly he took leave of the friendly natives, after purchasing considerable quantities of food, and set off.

There was every indication that his goal could not be far distant. The country was open, the soil a rich red loam, covered with rank rough pasturage and wild clover, with occasional clumps of woodland. The air was so cool, except at mid-day, that it was hard to believe they were within a degree or two of the Equator; but by testing the boiling-point of water John discovered that the height was five thousand feet above sea-level, and the temperate climate was explained.

Two days after leaving the native village Mr. Halliday decided to pitch his camp, and taking that for a centre, to explore the surrounding country.

"If this isn't the place, it ought to be," he said to John. "I never saw a finer country for grazing; it's good for three or four sheep an acre, or I'm a Dutchman, and fruit ought to grow here as well as in Kent."

"It's rather strange, though," said John, "that there's no game to be seen. There ought to be plenty."

"That's true. Perhaps they've been killed off by some disease, though I hope that's not the explanation. We'll maybe find out by and by."

The camp was pitched near a shallow stream, a boma was erected round it, and next day the travellers set off with Coja and one of the porters, leaving the rest in charge of the second Swahili.

They waded several small streams, and in the afternoon came to a broad river which, on consulting his map, Mr. Halliday felt sure was the one marked as forming the northern boundary of his suggested settlement. But though they searched its banks for some hours, they failed to discover the post, and had to return unsuccessful, reaching camp after nightfall. Next day they set off again in a different direction, so as to strike the river at a point higher up its course. When they came to it, Coja pointed to a native village on high ground some distance on the other side, and suggested that inquiry should be made there. The river could only be crossed by swimming, and there being no sign of crocodiles, they plunged in, finding the water deliciously cold. Their approach was descried from the village, and they were soon met by a group of young warriors armed with bows and arrows, who, standing at a distance, demanded who they were and what was their business. Coja shouted in reply that they had come to make friends with the chief, and had brought some valuable presents for him. One of the men ran back to the village, the others remaining on guard, and forbidding the strangers to advance until the chief arrived.

Some little time elapsed before the chief made his appearance amid a group of elders. At first he stood suspiciously aloof while Coja explained the purpose of the white men's visit, but when Mr. Halliday displayed a strip of coloured cloth, and Coja announced that it was a gift for the chief, the natives drew a little nearer, and said that they were willing to be friends if the strangers would not rob them. Coja's reply to this was that the white men were very good, and would never dream of robbing their friends, adding that the cloth would be handed to the chief if he would come and answer a few questions.

"Give it him at once," said Mr. Halliday, "and say there's more if they'll tell us what we want to know."

The gift of the cloth finally disarmed the chief's suspicions. Looking very much pleased, he came forward with his men, and said that he was ready to give what help he could. Mr. Gillespie had warned Mr. Halliday not to believe too implicitly any statements made by natives, who would always say what they thought would please; so when, in answer to his question about a post with a man's head, the chief said that he certainly knew it, and asked for another piece of cloth, Mr. Halliday shook his head, promising to give more presents if the chief would lead him to the landmark. At this the chief looked much troubled, and his men began to talk eagerly, it being evident from their manner that they were trying to dissuade him from complying with the white man's request. Mr. Halliday was at a loss to understand their reluctance until Coja, after a long colloquy with the chief, announced that they were afraid to go near the post, which was a terrible devil, for their medicine man had seen its eyes move, and its mouth grin at him. It had come there suddenly one day, no one knew how, but they thought it must have sprung out of the ground, and some of their cattle that grazed around it had soon afterwards died, so that they were sure it was a devil, and they had never since allowed their herds to roam in that direction.

"Where is it?" asked Mr. Halliday.

The chief pointed up the river, and said that if the white man had medicine strong enough to destroy the devil the people would be very grateful. Mr. Halliday thought he might turn this superstition to good account. He explained that he had come from the end of the world to make a home in this country, and the devil had no doubt established himself on the ground in order to show that it was to be a white man's property. But now that he had come, the devil's work of guarding the land was over, and if the chief would promise to be a friendly neighbour, the devil should be at once destroyed, and a good price should be paid for the land, since it was clearly a part of the chief's grazing grounds. The chief gave the promise with alacrity, adding that he would become the blood brother of any man who should rid the country of so terrible a creature. Thereupon Mr. Halliday asked him to lead the way as far as he dared, and he should see for himself that the devil had no power against the white man's magic.

The chief sent a messenger back to the village with this good news, and soon a great throng of people came flocking down, men, women, and children, some blowing rude horns, others beating drums, all in great excitement. The devil was on the bank of the river from which the white men had crossed. Having swum back in company with the chief and half-a-dozen of his men, the travellers marched up the river, the populace flocking along the other bank, being only occasionally visible among the trees.

After walking for about half-a-mile, the chief struck away from the river, and led the way to a saucer-like depression between two ranges of low hills. It was open grass country for the most part, but at the further end of the hollow, about three miles away, there was a thick mass of forest. All at once the chief came to a halt, and, pointing ahead, declared that the devil was there, and he would go no farther. Neither Mr. Halliday nor John could distinguish the post among the long grass, but asking the chief to remain where he stood, they went forward to search for it. After a few steps they missed Coja, and turning to look for him, found that he had halted a hundred yards or so from the chief, being evidently unwilling to face the devil, and at the same time wishing to appear braver than the natives.

Walking some distance apart, so that they should not miss the post, Mr. Halliday and his son in a minute or two caught sight simultaneously of what they sought. A thick knobby post stood among the grass, its top about a foot above the level of the stalks. The knob had been carved with some skill to the shape of a face with the mouth wide open.

"We may as well do the job with becoming solemnity," said Mr. Halliday. "We'll have a shot or two at it before we go near. Range about a hundred, isn't it?"

"I should think so. Bet you I get most shots in his mouth."

"Considering that our rifles and cartridges are alike, I don't see how you're going to judge. Anyway, you take first shot."

John fired. A flock of birds rose with a great clatter of wings into the air, and the group of natives yelled and flung themselves face downward into the grass, whereupon Coja began to taunt them with cowardice. A shot from Mr. Halliday followed; then each fired again, and Mr. Halliday, turning round, declared that the devil was killed, and walked towards the post. Coja, now thoroughly reassured, ran after him, the natives following at a distance.

"All four shots in the mouth; the honours are easy," said Mr. Halliday. "You're a better shot than I thought you, John. We'd better pull the thing up, hadn't we?"

But they found the post so firmly fixed that they could neither pull it up nor push it over. It was evidently a case for digging. Having no implements with them they were obliged to leave it standing; but Mr. Halliday showed the admiring natives the bullet marks in the mouth, and, slapping the top of the head, assured them that the devil would do no more harm. He then gave the chief another strip of cloth and a handful of beads in reward for his services, and the party returned to the river, where the happy result of the expedition was announced to the main body of the villagers, from whom the proceedings had been hidden by the contour of the ground. The chief wished Mr. Halliday to feast with him, and afterwards witness a war-dance, and when the invitation was declined, he insisted on his white friend accepting a small pied goat.

"The pioneer of our stock, John," said Mr. Halliday. "But the chief must take charge of it until we come up to settle. I don't suppose we shall see it again."

But in this he was mistaken, for when he came some weeks later to enter into occupation of his estate, the goat was brought to him with every mark of respect by a deputation of the villagers.

[CHAPTER THE FIFTH--Juma takes to the Bush]

Mr. Halliday spent the next two days in surveying the neighbourhood of Mr. Gilmour's stake. The country was all that his friend had described. The soil was rich; the river, as the natives informed him, never ran dry, though its waters were sometimes very low; and the valley was intersected by several smaller watercourses, which, though now dry, were full streams in the rainy season, so that the estate would never lack irrigation except after long-continued drought. Being well satisfied with the locality, Mr. Halliday got his men to erect a number of boundary posts about a rectangular area of some 1,500 acres, and then set off on the return journey to Nairobi to lodge a claim for a Government grant in the office of the District Commissioner. He paid his preliminary survey fee of seventy-five rupees; then, knowing that it would be months before the official survey was made, he decided to purchase stores, stock, and material for building a bungalow and out-houses, and to engage porters to convey these to the spot, and a certain number of servants to staff the farm. Formal possession of the land would be granted as soon as it was certified to be actually occupied and the balance of the survey fee, some two hundred rupees, was paid; but the lease for ninety-nine years would not be made out until the Commissioner received proof that development had taken place, which practically meant the expenditure of forty times the rent, this being twelve cents an acre. Thus it would be about three years before Mr. Halliday was definitely accepted as a settler and leaseholder, and he impressed upon John that they must both put their backs into the work if they intended to be successful.

It was a month before the second safari was ready to start--a far more important caravan than the first. To begin with, there was a large quantity of stores for the use of the white men, together with seeds, root plants, and a few apple-tree slips, which by all accounts would thrive. Then there was a considerable amount of thin corrugated iron for roofing, some glass, and some ready-made window-frames, which if made on the spot would have involved too great an expenditure of time and labour. There were a few simple agricultural implements which Mr. Halliday had brought from home, guessing, and rightly as it proved, that even allowing for the cost of freight they were cheaper than they could have been bought in Nairobi. These included the "small holdings plough" of Ipswich, which had to be taken to pieces for convenience of transit. Mr. Halliday deplored the lack of roads and of bridges over the streams, which made it impossible to employ vehicles for the carriage of his goods, and prevented him from taking several pieces of machinery he would have liked to have with him. But he purchased a few donkeys, each of which could carry twice as much as a man.

In addition to these articles, a large number of live-stock was included in the caravan. It might be possible, Mr. Halliday was told, to purchase cattle and sheep from the natives in the neighbourhood of his farm, but he was advised to buy a good number of half-bred animals in Nairobi, the native sheep and goats being woolless, and of no value except for their flesh and hides. Later on, when he was fairly settled, he hoped to introduce some English stock to cross with the native. Accordingly he bought 750 sheep at an average price of six shillings a head, a few goats, and a score of cattle, for which he paid £140.

To carry his goods he found it necessary to engage, in addition to the donkeys, forty porters, a few of whom he intended to keep as labourers on the farm or servants in the house, if they proved satisfactory. Of these forty only one, Coja the headman, had been a member of the first expedition, the rest of that party being unwilling to do any more work until they had spent their wages. Twelve of the new company were Swahilis, the remainder Wakamba or Wakikuyu. Four of the Swahilis were askaris, or armed porters. Said Mohammed had done so well on the first journey that he was engaged permanently as cook. John declared that his conversation was well worth his wages, but Mr. Halliday took severely practical views of everything, and said that he didn't pay for conversation. He hired two Indian mistris for three months, at two rupees a day, to build his bungalow and do what other carpenter's work was necessary. And since his farm was to be mainly a stock-farm, he engaged a stalwart Masai and his son, a lad of sixteen or seventeen, to assist in the herding, the Masai being a pastoral race par excellence.

Mr. Halliday had not intended to increase his men's burdens on this occasion by "trade" goods, thinking that the friendship he had already sealed with the chief of the neighbouring village would obviate any further dealings with the natives. But he changed his mind on the advice of Mr. Gillespie, who represented that he might come in contact with other tribes not so well disposed, that he might find it necessary to purchase more sheep and cattle, especially if tick fever or some other disease broke out among his stock, and that it would be well to have the means of purchasing ivory, if he found an opportunity, the tribes to the north of Kenya being reputed great elephant hunters.

All being at last ready, Mr. Halliday set out on his second journey, which took him nearly four times as long as the first, owing partly to a certain turbulence among the Swahili porters, and partly to the difficulty of driving the animals. Apart from their natural tendency to lag and to stray, it was a difficult and sometimes a perilous operation to get them across the many streams; fortunately it was the height of the dry season, and the depth of water insignificant. Several sheep were drowned, some strayed and could not be recovered; one or two died of over-marching. The donkeys also gave a good deal of trouble, having to be unloaded at every stream, lugged across, and then loaded up again. It was a long and tiresome business each night to construct a boma of sufficient circuit to enclose the whole of the safari, and in spite of this thorny fence, and watchfires kept constantly alight, a lion on one occasion broke in at dead of night, snapped up a sheep, and made off with it before the alarm could be given.

Mr. Halliday found the porters even more troublesome than the animals. It turned out that one of the Swahilis was an old rival of Coja ben Selim. He was a big man named Juma, with a stronger strain of Arab blood than the rest, and he constantly disputed Coja's authority, and incited the other men to complain of their loads and their food. Mr. Halliday had to be continually on the watch, and only by dint of great firmness and by keeping Juma on one occasion without food for a day did he succeed in preventing a mutiny. Juma had brought his wife with him, a very stout negress of some Bantu race; or rather, she had attached herself to the expedition when it had marched some ten miles out of Nairobi, and resolutely refused to leave. Her presence proved to be rather an advantage than otherwise, for once when Mr. Halliday had found it necessary to give Juma a stern reprimand, the woman volubly assisted him, demanding of her husband why he was such a fool as to endanger his pay. Juma was evidently in some awe of his spouse, and Coja told John privately that she had a terrible tongue.

At length the safari arrived at the site of the farm, and though Mr. Halliday did not flatter himself that his troubles were over, he felt a great relief that the anxieties of the journey were a thing of the past. The first proceeding was to construct a substantial boma. Then he selected a site for his bungalow, fixing on a pleasant knoll above the river and at a distance of about two hundred yards from it. John pleaded for a position nearer the river, but Mr. Halliday pointed out that the stream was at present shrunk, and would no doubt swell to a much greater width in the rainy season, when exhalations from it might be dangerous to health. He had brought a couple of tents to live in while the bungalow was building; his natives ran up grass huts for themselves; and within twenty-four hours of their arrival, with the tents pitched, the huts erected, the sheep and cattle grazing, and a boma enclosing them all, the place had already begun to assume the aspect of a settlement.

During the first night the sleep of the camp was disturbed by the distant roaring of lions, and Mr. Halliday took turns with John to watch. They had learnt from Mr. Gillespie that the lion stalks his prey in absolute silence, so that they did not fear an actual visitation while the roars continued; and though the sounds came nearer towards the morning, the dread beasts made no attempt to break in. Examining the ground on the following day, Mr. Halliday found pug marks about half-a-mile from the enclosure, and a little further away the scanty remains of a zebra. The proximity of lions was somewhat perturbing. Sometimes, as Mr. Halliday had learnt, the mere presence of man was enough to drive them away; but if they had once tasted human flesh they showed extraordinary audacity and cunning in obtaining further victims. As a precaution, he caused an inner boma to be erected around the tents and the grass huts of the men, so that if lions should break into the outer enclosure they would find another barrier between them and human prey.

During the daytime the building of the bungalow and the cattle-sheds proceeded apace. There was plenty of wood in the neighbourhood, and the people of the village beyond the river assisted in cutting and transporting the timber in exchange for a small quantity of cloth, beads, or wire. No work could be got out of the porters, except a few of the Wakamba, who began to prepare the ground around the bungalow for cultivation. Mr. Halliday would willingly have seen the backs of the whole company, but Juma declared that they must rest a few days after their long march before returning to Nairobi; and having no means of expelling them Mr. Halliday must needs submit, though he hoped their stay would be short. Apart from other reasons why their presence was undesirable, they consumed a prodigious amount of food, which had to be purchased from the chief; and while the Wakamba were satisfied with grain and fruits, the Swahili demanded meat, which meant that either some of the cattle must be killed, or the Hallidays must go hunting for their unwelcome guests.

One day Wasama, the Masai herdsman, reported that a number of the sheep had strayed. Not willing to lose them, Mr. Halliday and John set off with Wasama and two or three of the Wakamba to find them, taking their rifles in the hope of bringing down some game for the men. They tracked the wanderers through the long grass to the west of the encampment, and found that the trail led them into the woods on the rising ground in that direction. There they lost the trail, and scattered, the Englishmen arranging to fire a shot as a signal to the others if either of them came upon the track of the missing animals.

John was making his way through the wood, bending close to the ground, when he suddenly came upon a small hut standing by itself in a little glade. It consisted of four upright logs, the interspaces filled with brushwood, and covered with a roof of twisted boughs. He halted, wondering whose dwelling it might be, and then, a movement among the undergrowth at the rear of the hut attracting his attention, he walked slowly towards the spot, holding his rifle in readiness to encounter danger. To his amazement he saw a quaint little figure emerge from the thicket. It was the form of an elderly man, not more than four feet high, dark brown in colour, with strangely bent shins, longish hair streaked with grey, and protruding jaws. He wore nothing but a loose cloak of undressed skin hung from the shoulders, and he carried a small bow. Still more to John's surprise, the little man came forward, and held out his hand with a frank gesture of friendliness, uttering a word or two in a low, quiet voice. John shook his hand, feeling a little confused in his inability to speak to the man; then, thinking that he might be able to assist in the search for the sheep, he fired off his rifle, upon which the man sprang back into his hut with every mark of terror.

The shot soon brought up the rest of the party, and on John explaining why he had fired, Wasama went to the entrance of the hut and shouted into the interior. After a little hesitation the owner came out, and a brief conversation ensued between the two men, at the close of which Wasama, who knew enough English to make himself understood, explained that the man was one of the Wanderobbo tribe and was living quite alone. This fact was rather surprising, for the African natives always live in communities, large or small. But after further speech with the hermit, Wasama said that he had no tribe or village, all his people having been killed a long while ago. He had since lived in this little hut, occupying himself, after the manner of his people, in collecting wild honey and hunting, selling the skins of the animals he killed to the neighbouring villagers.

Mr. Halliday asked whether the man had seen anything of his sheep, and the Wanderobbo at once offered to help in the search in return for a few beads. The party set off again, and, emerging from the wood at its southern extremity, the little man soon discovered the trail, and the wanderers were seen placidly grazing half-a-mile away. The Wanderobbo seemed much more delighted with the few beads given him than the value of the gift appeared to justify, and at parting shook hands warmly with the Englishmen, promising, when Wasama had told him of their settlement, to bring them some honey shortly. Wasama collected the sheep and began to herd them back towards the farm, Mr. Halliday and the others going a little farther in pursuance of his intention of shooting something for the larder. But an hour's search revealing no trace of game, he started to return. He had just overtaken Wasama, about a mile from camp, when he saw Said Mohammed hastening towards him at a run.

"I hope there's nothing wrong," he said, but as the Bengali drew nearer it was plain from his perturbed countenance that he bore bad news.

"Master and esteemed sir," he said, panting as he came up, "I regret to inform you that a calamity has transpired."

"What is it?" asked Mr. Halliday, as the cook, who was of substantial physique, paused to recover breath.

"Larceny, sir. Juma, that badmash, awful scoundrel, sir, has lifted, or shall I say pinched, four donkeys, a dozen rifles, and a regular heap of trade goods, and has decamped, bunked, sir, with the Swahilis, who knows where?"

"What was Coja about?" demanded Mr. Halliday, at the same time quickening his pace.

"That, sir, deponent knoweth not. In fact, I have not seen Coja for some time, and suspect that he winked the other eye."

"How long ago was this?"

"I do not know the exact moment, since I was engaged in washing crockery after our matutinal repast, and did not discover the crime until I had made a hole in it; but on a modest computation I should say, not less than five hours ago."

"Soon after we left, John. Which way did the men go?"

"Of that also I am in blissful ignorance, sir."

"We'll soon track them, anyway. John, we must go after them."

They hurried on towards the camp, taking Wasama with them, and leaving the sheep in charge of the Wakamba. When they reached the settlement, it was apparently deserted, except by the Indian carpenters and Juma's negro wife, who, as soon as she saw them, began excitedly to harangue some person out of sight, and then ran behind the bungalow, the walls of which were already up, and dragged forth Coja, whom she brought, a sheepish and crestfallen object, before his master.

Mr. Halliday did not delay either to reprimand or to receive explanations, but ordered Coja and the four Wakamba who had followed him from his hiding-place to sling on their cooking-pots and a little food and prepare to accompany him in chase of the fugitives.

"We don't know how long it will take us," he said to John. "Said Mohammed, you must come with us; we may be a day or two and shall want you to cook. Juma's wife seems a capable body; we'll leave her in charge. Coja, look for their tracks, and go on; we'll follow you."

Within a quarter of an hour of reaching camp the party set off, numbering eight in all. The track was very clear. For three miles it followed the route by which the safari had come several days before; then, to Mr. Halliday's surprise, it made a sudden turn westward.

"I made sure they would strike for the coast," he said. "They won't dare show themselves in any of our settled parts, and I don't understand their going off into the interior. They've had a good start of us, but we travel lighter and ought to catch them if we don't lose the trail."

The party hurried on, not pausing, though the day was now at its hottest. The trail led through open country, and across several streams, some of them of fair size. Here there were signs that the donkeys had given trouble, the soft earth at the brink being so trampled and cut up as to suggest that the animals had had to be pushed and hauled into the water. The trail was for the most part easily followed, for the fugitives had clearly been in too great a hurry to attempt to cover it. Once or twice, when it crossed stony ground, Coja was temporarily at fault, and he then declared he wished they had the Wanderobbo with them, for there were no people like the Wanderobbo for following a trail. Were they not matchless elephant hunters? But a little skirmishing beyond such stony tracts sufficed to pick up the trail again, and pushing on without respite, rest, or food, until sundown, Coja said that the newness of the footprints showed that the quarry was not far ahead. Darkness fell, however, without their having sighted the fugitives, and since they were all thoroughly tired and hungry, Mr. Halliday decided to halt for rest and a meal, and to resume the pursuit in the night if the moon rose, or at dawn.

"I say, father," said John, as they came to a halt, "we mustn't light a fire, or we'll give ourselves away."

"Quite right. We shall have to do without our cocoa to-night, and keep an extra sharp look-out for lions."

The white men had to satisfy themselves with biscuit and water from a brook; the natives ate some of the roasted beans without which they never travel. With the first glimmer of dawn the party were up and on the trail. Two hours' hard marching, at a pace which the natives had never known before, brought them up with the thieves. Coja was the first to catch sight of them, and he held up his hand as a sign to the rest to halt, informing Mr. Halliday in a whisper that the fugitives were only a little distance ahead, in the act of crossing a stream. Half of them had, indeed, already crossed; the remainder were trying to induce the donkeys to face the water.

"Can we catch them?" Mr. Halliday asked.

"Yes, sah, go round about," answered the man.

He led them in a direction at right angles to the path, so as to make a circuit and come upon the runaways from among the thick vegetation at the brink of the river. But Coja's advice turned out to be bad. They had reached the bank and were wheeling to burst upon the Swahilis, when they were suddenly descried by those who had crossed. A shout warned the men struggling with the donkeys; without a moment's hesitation they let go of the animals and took to their heels. When Mr. Halliday came upon the scene nothing was in sight but the donkeys, which on being released had scrambled up the bank out of the river and begun to bray with pleasure at the riddance of their loads.

"We ought to have come straight instead of round about," cried Mr. Halliday, vexed at his failure to punish the men. It was obviously hopeless to pursue them further. The scrub was dense; the Swahilis had good rifles and ammunition; and being relieved of impedimenta, the loads of goods having been left on the farther bank when they fled, they could travel much faster than Mr. Halliday and his party, fatigued after their forced march.

"We must be satisfied with having got back our donkeys and their loads," said Mr. Halliday. "The men are a good riddance; but I grudge those rifles of ours. However, it can't be helped. We must keep a sharp eye on our people, and fire out at once any we can't trust."

The loads abandoned by the runaways were brought across the river without interference, and after they had been strapped on the donkeys' backs the little caravan started to return to the farm.

[CHAPTER THE SIXTH--Raided by Lions]

The return march was not so hurried as the pursuit, and it was the afternoon of the fifth day after their departure when the little party arrived at the farm. Mr. Halliday was surprised that none of the Wakamba had come to meet him, thinking that they must have descried him from afar; and still more surprised when, on entering the enclosure, he could not see any of his people. Surely they had not all deserted! Passing through the second boma, however, he heard a howl, and immediately afterwards the natives came rushing pell-mell towards him out of their grass huts, Wasama and Lulu, Juma's wife, leading the way. They crowded about him, all shouting together, and making such a din that Coja himself could not at once distinguish what they were saying. But when Mr. Halliday had sternly called for order, Coja made out that the people were in a terrible state of fright, because a cow had been carried away during the night without a sound.

They declared that the robber must be the devil whom Mr. Halliday had professed to slay.

"Nonsense!" said Mr. Halliday. "It must have been a lion."

But no--Wasama declared it could not have been a lion, for he had not heard a lion's roar, and there was no breach in the outer boma: only a devil could have passed through it without forcing a gap.

When Mr. Halliday set Coja to question the man, however, he learnt that neither he nor any other of the natives had stirred outside the inner enclosure that day, so that they were hardly in a position to know whether the boma had been broken or not. An examination of it soon revealed a gap in the western side, and bits of tawny hide were sticking to the thorns. Mr. Halliday insisted on Wasama following up the tracks which even his inexperienced eye discovered, and within a quarter of a mile he came upon some bones and a few remnants of a carcase, from which a couple of vultures flew away. Wasama, however, persisted in his assertion that the track was not that of a lion, and the others backing him up, Mr. Halliday sent John and Coja to the wood to fetch the Wanderobbo, determined to clear up the point before dark.

The Wanderobbo came bringing a small gourd of wild honey which he offered to Mr. Halliday. The little man threw one glance on the blood-bespattered ground, and then said that the tracks were undoubtedly those of two lions, which would probably return to the spot during the coming night.

"Then we'll stay and wait for them, John," said Mr. Halliday. "We mustn't be molested in this way, and the sooner we teach the beasts a lesson, the better."

But the Wanderobbo, when this was explained to him, earnestly advised the white men not to do anything of the sort. There was no tree at hand, he pointed out, in which the hunters could rest and watch for the lions, and they, having far keener sight than men, would merely stalk them. In the darkness they could not even see to shoot. He said that they had better return to the settlement and watch inside the boma; and since darkness would soon fall, he begged to be taken in for the night, to which Mr. Halliday readily agreed.

Neither of the Englishmen slept that night. They sat at their tent door, with their rifles within reach, listening to the distant roaring, and awaiting with a nervous impatience the onset of the terrible beasts. The roars drew nearer, then ceased. The men clutched their rifles, and stole into the outer enclosure, where the sheep were huddled together in terror. They waited for several hours, peering into the darkness, but neither saw nor heard any more of the marauders, though when they went out with the Wanderobbo in the morning, they traced the spoor of lions within a few yards of the boma.

This experience was repeated for several nights following. To lessen their fatigue, Mr. Halliday and John took turns to watch, but though each night they heard the roars, there was no attempt to break in. Thinking that the fires, which were kept burning all night, were proving effectual in scaring the beasts, both father and son decided one day to go to sleep as usual. But in the middle of the night they were startled by a yell. Springing up, they seized their rifles, and rushed out of the tent in their pyjamas. There was a great commotion among the animals in the outer enclosure, and dashing through them, Mr. Halliday saw that a gap had been broken in the boma no more than three yards from one of the fires. The man whose turn it was to replenish it with fuel, and whose yell had awakened the white men, said that a lion had sprung through without warning and carried off a sheep. It was useless to attempt to pursue the robber in the dark, and Mr. Halliday could only swallow his vexation and return to his interrupted sleep.

Nothing disturbed the work of the settlement during the daytime. The Indian carpenters were making good progress with the bungalow and the other sheds which Mr. Halliday had decided to erect on the north side, nearest the river. The soil outside the boma was being slowly prepared for crops, and finding after a few days that his Wakamba porters were but indifferent labourers, Mr. Halliday dismissed them, resolving to rely upon the people of the neighbouring villages for such farm labour as he required. He intended to bring only a small area under cultivation at first, for the purpose of growing enough grain and vegetables for his own consumption. Difficulties of transit would prevent him from dealing in farm produce; the work of driving his cattle by and by over a hundred miles to market would no doubt prove arduous enough.

But though the days were thus placid, the nights became a horror. If a watch was kept, the peace of the encampment was undisturbed except by the remote and harmless roars; but as soon as the weary Englishmen determined to enjoy a full night's rest, the thorn fence would be broken at some new spot, and when the sheep and cattle were numbered in the morning it was found that one or more was missing. The natives became scared, and as for Mr. Halliday, he declared it was positively uncanny.

"One would think the beasts have the gift of second sight," he said. "I don't wonder our village friends kept their cattle off these grounds and believed in Gilmour's devil."

The only incident that relieved the tension and afforded a little amusement was the discovery one morning that the lion in his haste had snatched up a bag of rice, which was found at some little distance, the grains scattered about as though the thief had lost his temper when he became aware of the mistake.

It was fortunate indeed for the little community that the lions were apparently not man-eaters. A lion that has once tasted man thenceforth scorns lesser fare, and Coja told his employers harrowing stories of the reign of terror under which the coolies who had been engaged in laying the Uganda railway had lived. Night after night the terrible beasts had crept into the native encampments and stolen forth in dead silence with their hapless prey, ceasing their depredations for months at a time, but returning when the men were lulled to security, and beginning their havoc over again. Mr. Halliday had heard of this from Mr. Gillespie in Nairobi; but the story told now by one who had actually lived in the camps thus visited at night, and punctuated by the roaring of lions at a distance, made a much more powerful and harrowing impression. At any moment the lions might become man-eaters. They had only to stumble upon a native in their nocturnal raids and then the life of no man would be safe.

More than once Mr. Halliday set off in the daytime with John and the Wanderobbo, who was now a frequent visitor to the farm, to track the lions and if possible hunt them down. They found that the spoor led into the dense scrub higher up the river, a region ten or twelve miles in length and nearly as much in breadth. So thick was the scrub that it was impossible to trace the beasts for more than a few yards into its recesses. After what he had heard of the Wanderobbo's skill and prowess as a hunter, Mr. Halliday was surprised to find how reluctant the little man was to accompany them in their expeditions. But he had a wholesome dread of lions. Elephants he was prepared to tackle, and indeed any other creature of the wilds; though even them he would rather snare than stalk; but the lion was a much more cunning and dangerous enemy. He would talk very bravely sometimes, avowing that if he met a lion and stared at him the beast would slink away; but he showed no readiness to enter the probable haunts of the creatures, and admitted that they sometimes took it into their heads to fight instead of running away, and then they were quite as clever hunters as he was. Mr. Halliday somewhat impatiently reminded him that rifles were very deadly weapons; but the Wanderobbo shook his head and said that he had never hunted lions with rifles. He had seen the Arabs do so, and pay for their temerity with their lives. On the whole his advice was to leave the lions alone, and he once confessed very naïvely that if he, bold hunter as he was, saw a lion approaching, he would certainly go the other way.

With such half-hearted assistance it was not surprising that many days passed before the Englishmen so much as caught a glimpse of their tormentors. However, one morning when they had gone out with the Wanderobbo and Coja to track the smaller game for food, they descried two lions stalking slowly across a glade some miles up the river. In spite of the little man's reluctance Mr. Halliday determined to go in chase, and then the Wanderobbo, forgetting his fears when his hunting instincts were aroused, suggested that they should tempt the lions to come within range. He proposed that they should carry a water-buck which John had just brought down, to a spot where the scent of it would be wafted by the wind towards the beasts. This having been done, the party retreated to the rear of the lions and lurked behind some trees to watch them. The lions soon scented the game, and came slowly towards it, moving with a majestic and yet graceful gait that extorted murmurs of admiration from the Englishmen. But when they had come within two hundred yards, and John was quivering with excitement at the prospect of his first encounter with the king of beasts, one of them became suspicious and halted, lifting his head and sniffing the air, and then uttering a low growl as if to warn his companion. After a minute or two they seemed to decide that they were being led into a trap, and, turning about, stalked slowly away.

"Let's go after them, father," said John, unwilling to let this chance slip.

The four set off stealthily to stalk the beasts, and after an hour's fatiguing march over rough ground, saw them standing together at the edge of a patch of bush just beyond range. Bending low, and taking advantage of every tree and tussock of grass, and a tall ant-hill, for cover, the two Englishmen drew nearer and nearer, and were on the point of lifting their rifles to fire, when the animals disappeared into the bush. There was nothing for it but to begin the stalking again. They cautiously made the circuit of the bush, and presently saw the lions emerge from the further end and continue their promenade. Again the hunters followed them, at one moment flattering themselves that a few yards further would bring them within range, the next chagrined to perceive that the lions had quickened their pace and outdistanced them. At length, when a thin patch of woodland enabled them to hurry their steps and gave hope of overtaking their quarry, the lions broke into a trot and soon disappeared from view.

"Well, if that isn't disgusting!" exclaimed John,

"How long have we been at this game, do you think?" asked his father.

"Two or three hours, perhaps."

"Five hours and a half, my boy, and I rather think we might have been better employed."

John was too much disgusted at the failure of his first lion-hunt to say any more; and when next morning it was found that one of the best cows had been stolen he was still more angry.

"We must put a stop to this, father," he said. "Can't we set a trap?"

"We'll see what our friend Bill says," replied Mr. Halliday. The Wanderobbo's name had proved so unpronounceable that he had been called Bill for short. Bill, however, said that lions were too clever to be caught in traps, which did not seem improbable when he explained what he meant by a trap--a simple pit with a sharpened stick at the bottom, like that in which Oliver Browne had been found, or a spear suspended from the branch of a tree and brought down by the animal treading on a rope. Mr. Halliday set to work to devise a more effective machine.

He got the mistris to cut several stout logs, out of which they constructed a sort of gigantic rat-trap. The door was arranged so that it was held in position by a light pole attached to a length of stout wire, which was connected with a spring hidden under leaves on the floor of the trap. If a lion should enter and tread on the spring, the wire would be released and the door fall behind him down two grooves of corrugated iron. To entice him to enter, a live goat was placed in a compartment adjoining the trap, so strongly fenced that the bait was in no danger.

This trap was rigged up, with the expenditure of a day's work, at one corner of the outer boma.

"It's rather poor sport to treat the lion like a rat," said John, "but that can't be helped. If we catch one we shan't be able to get a good shot at him in the dark, though."

"Well, we can either keep him there till daylight, or, better still, burn a bit of magnesium wire--I've plenty; that will not only give us a good light, but possibly help to scare other beasts away."

The trap was set. For two nights nothing happened. On the third, just as the two Englishmen were thinking of turning in, they heard the door of the trap fall with a clatter, followed by a low growl of rage. They caught up their rifles and hurried to the spot.

"Now for the wire, father," said John. "You give me a light and I'll pot the beast."

Mr. Halliday struck a match and ignited the wire, but just as John was taking aim it fell to the ground.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"I'm as nervous as a cat," said his father, with a rueful laugh. "And I haven't brought a second piece, confound it!"

"Well, we'll take a shot in the dark. We can't both miss."

They fired together. The next moment there was a terrific roar, a crash as of shattered match-wood, and they knew that the infuriated captive had burst through the walls of the trap, stout as they were. They fired another shot in the direction they supposed him to have taken, and then, vexed and disappointed, returned to their tent. They found next day that the lion had been wounded. Bill traced it by the stains of blood upon the ground. But its injuries were plainly not very serious, for the track failed at a patch of reeds a mile up the river, and the Englishmen had to digest their chagrin that the troublesome beast was still at large. Their efforts, however, had not been wholly unsuccessful. The nocturnal visitations ceased, and since no roaring was heard it appeared that the lions had been scared from the neighbourhood.

[CHAPTER THE SEVENTH--John runs the Farm]

Within three months of Mr. Halliday's arrival at his farm, which he named Alloway after the village of his father's birth, the place had assumed the orderly appearance of a prosperous settlement. The knoll was crowned by a neat bungalow; two hundred yards below it stood two wooden huts appropriated to Said Mohammed and the mistris; at some distance from this a row of cattle-sheds had been erected; and beyond these stood the grass huts of Wasama and his son and Lulu the negress, these being all who remained of the original party. Pens had been made for the sheep and goats; about twenty acres of land had been prepared for planting when the rains began; and a dairy had been started, being cut out of the side of the knoll on which the bungalow stood, for the sake of coolness and protection from the sun and dust.

The work of the Indians being finished for the present, Mr. Halliday thought of paying them off; but reflecting that more fencing would be needed by and by, as well as lambing-pens and cattle-sheds as the stock increased, he decided to retain the men, even though he could not make full use of them.

It chanced one day that a Swahili came to the farm with a letter from Mr. Gillespie, enclosing one addressed to Mr. Halliday, and bearing the Glasgow postmark and a date nine weeks back. The flap of the envelope bore the name and address of a firm of lawyers unknown to Mr. Halliday, and he opened the letter with some curiosity mixed with apprehension.

"Well now," he exclaimed, as he hastily read it, "this is a pretty fix."

"What is it, father?" asked John.

"You've heard me speak of my uncle Alec--the old curmudgeon who lived by himself and hasn't spoken to any of his family for twenty years. Well, the poor old man is dead, and these people, Wright and MacKellar, tell me that he left no will, and understanding that I am the next of kin, they urge me to come to Glasgow and make good my title. The letter was written nearly three months ago, and seems by the look of the envelope to have had an adventurous career."

"But hadn't your uncle any children?"

"One daughter. She married without his consent: I forget the man's name, and I haven't heard about her for five-and-twenty years."

"What will you do?"

"I'm just thinking. My uncle was a shipowner, and pretty well-to-do: indeed, your poor mother's friends used to advise me to keep in with him, but I couldn't toady to the old bear. I suppose I ought to go back, and yet!---- It's rather upsetting, my boy, just as we are getting settled. He must have died before we left England, and if I had known then, and really inherit his property, we needn't have come out at all, perhaps."

"I'm jolly glad you didn't, then, for I wouldn't have been out of this for anything."

"That's all very well, but there's the property: it would be a pity to lose that: shouldn't like it to go out of the family. At the same time, I'm not inclined to give up the farm; we've made a good start, and I'm uncommonly interested in it. Besides, I may not be the heir after all; my cousin may be alive: and I should look a pretty fool after going to this expense if I cleared out and got nothing--like the dog in the fable. I think I'd better take a trip back to Nairobi and see Gillespie. And I'll tell you what I'll do, John. If I decide to go home, as most likely I shall, I'll find an experienced man in Nairobi and send him up to take charge while I'm away."

"That's rather rotten," said John with a crestfallen look. "I don't want anybody here bossing me, father. Why not leave me in charge?"

"You're over young, John," replied Mr. Halliday dubiously.

"I'm just on eighteen, and I've got a bit used to things. I learnt a lot in that six months at the agricultural college before we started. I'm not exactly a fool, either. Plenty of fellows have gone to the Colonies on their own at my age, and done jolly well too. Look at Ned Cooper; he's got his own ranch in British Columbia, and he's not more than a year older than I am. Besides, look at the expense. You won't get a decent Englishman who'll be any good under £300 a year, I should think, and if this business in Glasgow turns out a frost, you'll be precious sorry you spent the money."

"There's something in that," said Mr. Halliday, stroking his beard. "Well, I'll think of it."

The upshot of his meditations was that he decided to do as John suggested. The lad was unfeignedly delighted; the responsibility did not daunt him; though he said little he felt capable of carrying on the work of the farm, and inwardly resolved to have a good budget to show his father when he returned. Mr. Halliday spent a good many anxious hours in instilling principles of caution and carefulness into his mind: he gave directions about the steps to be taken to bring the cattle and sheep and dairy produce to market when the proper time came; and then one day he set off with Coja and a couple of villagers as porters, determined to ask Mr. Gillespie to keep an eye on the boy as far as he could.

Before leaving he had a little conversation with Said Mohammed, upon whom he impressed the necessity of paying implicit obedience to his young master, and of helping him in every possible way.

"Verb. sap., sir," said the Bengali. "Mr. John is a chip of the old block, a second edition of you, sir, and I esteem myself most fortunate and in clover to do this trivial round for such a superior person."