s, we sat
and listened to the charge of the storm's wild horsemen, and the thunder
of its drumming on the tin roof. The onslaughts were as fierce and
abrupt as those of Cossacks, and swept by as suddenly. The roar died
away in the distance, and we could then hear the steady musical dripping
of waters.

Pleasant it was also to walk out from Juja in almost any direction. The
compound, and the buildings and trees within it, soon dwindled in the
distances of the great flat plain. Herds of game were always in
sight, grazing, lying down, staring in our direction. The animals
were incredibly numerous. Some days they were fairly tame, and others
exceedingly wild, without any rhyme or reason. This shyness or the
reverse seemed not to be individual to one herd; but to be practically
universal. On a "wild day" everything was wild from the Lone Tree
to Long Juju. It would be manifestly absurd to guess at the reason.
Possibly the cause might be atmospheric or electrical; possibly days of
nervousness might follow nights of unusual activity by the lions; one
could invent a dozen possibilities. Perhaps the kongonis decided it.

At Juja we got to know the kongonis even better than we had before.
They are comical, quizzical beasts, with long-nosed humorous faces, a
singularly awkward construction, a shambling gait; but with altruistic
dispositions and an ability to get over the ground at an extraordinary
speed. Every move is a joke; their expression is always one of grieved
but humorous astonishment. They quirk their heads sidewise or down and
stare at an intruder with the most comical air of skeptical wonder.
"Well, look who's here!" says the expression.

"Pooh!" says the kongoni himself, after a good look, "pooh! pooh!" with
the most insulting inflection.

He is very numerous and very alert. One or more of a grazing herd are
always perched as sentinels atop ant hills or similar small elevations.
On the slightest intimation of danger they give the alarm, whereupon the
herd makes off at once, gathering in all other miscellaneous game that
may be in the vicinity. They will go out of their way to do this, as
every African hunter knows. It immensely complicates matters; for the
sportsman must not only stalk his quarry, but he must stalk each and
every kongoni as well. Once, in another part of the country, C. and I
saw a kongoni leave a band of its own species far down to our right,
gallop toward us and across our front, pick up a herd o