I, with Sir Henry and Umslopogaas, would go out to shoot something for the pot.

Generally this was an easy task, for all sorts of game abounded on the banks of the Tana.

One night Sir Henry shot a young cow-giraffe, of which the marrow-bones were excellent; on another I got a couple of waterbuck right and left; and once, to his own intense satisfaction, Umslopogaas (who, like most Zulus, was a vile shot with a rifle) managed to kill a fine fat eland with a Martini I had lent him.
Sometimes we varied our food by shooting some guinea-fowl, or bush-bustard (paau) -- both of which were numerous -- with a shot-gun, or by catching a supply of beautiful yellow fish, with which the waters of the Tana swarmed, and which form, I believe, one of the chief food-supplies of the crocodiles.
Three days after our start an ominous incident occurred.

We were just drawing in to the bank to make our camp as usual for the night, when we caught sight of a figure standing on a little knoll not forty yards away, and intensely watching our approach.
One glance was sufficient -- although I was personally unacquainted with the tribe -- to tell me that he was a Masai Elmoran, or young warrior.

Indeed, had I had any doubts, they would have quickly been dispelled by the terrified ejaculation of '_Masai_!' that burst simultaneously from the lips of our Wakwafi followers, who are, as I think I have said, themselves bastard Masai.
And what a figure he presented as he stood there in his savage war-gear! Accustomed as I have been to savages all my life, I do not think that I have ever before seen anything quite so ferocious or awe-inspiring.