Then down comes the double-roofed green tents, all is wrapped into closely-packed bags, and before we are through with breakfast all the tented village has disappeared and only the mess tent and the two little outlying canvas shelters remain.

It is a scene of great activity.

Porters are busily making up their packs and the head-man with the askaris are busy directing them.

In a half-hour all that remains is a scattered assortment of bundles, all neatly bound up in stout cords.
One man may carry a tent-bag and poles, another a tin uniform case with a shot-gun strapped on top; another may have a bedding roll and a chair or table, and so on until the whole outfit is reduced to eighty compact bundles which include the food for the porters, the ant-proof food boxes with our own food, and the horns and skins of our trophies.

The work of breaking camp is reduced to a science.
Our gunbearers are waiting and the saises with the mules are in readiness.