Our long months of hunting were over.

Our horses and porters and all our equipment were on the train bound for Nairobi, where we were to settle our affairs and leave Africa and its happy hunting ground.

Little Wanderobo Dog had been let out of his first-class compartment in the train and was running up and down the platform, wigwagging messages of gladness with his tail and sniffing friends and strangers with dog-like curiosity.

Some friends of ours were at the train to say howdy-do and to shake our hands, and with these the little dog was soon on friendly terms.
When the train whistle blew and the bell was rung and some more whistles blew and more bells were rung, Little Wanderobo Dog was taken back into his car.

The last good-bys were said and we were off for Nairobi.
Suddenly there was a startled cry, a whisk of a tail, and the dog was gone--out of the car window.