In addition to the porters we had our gunbearers and a couple of native guides.

One of these was an old Wanderobo, or man of the forest, who had spent his life in the solitudes of the mountain and was probably more familiar with the trails than any other man.

He wore a single piece of skin thrown over his shoulders and carried a big poisoned elephant spear with a barb of iron that remains in the elephant when driven in by the weight of the heavy wooden shaft.
The barb was now covered with a protective binding of leaves.

He led the way, silent and mild-eyed and very naked, and the curious little skin-tight cap that he wore made him look like an old woman.

As we proceeded, other natives attached themselves to us as guides, so that by the time we were out half an hour there were four or five savages in the van.
[Photograph: He Was a Very Important Sultan] [Photograph: Saying Good-bye to Colonel Roosevelt] [Photograph: A Visiting Delegation of Kikuyus] No words can convey to the imagination the density of that first strip of bush.