us
adventures--a buffalo, a go of fever, and the like--but the culmination
had been reached. We had lingered until the latest moment, reluctant to
go. Now in the gray dawn we were filing down the slopes of the mountains
for the last trek. A low, flowing mist marked the distant Kedong; the
flames of an African sunrise were revelling in the eastern skies. All
our old friends seemed to be bidding us good-bye. Around the shoulder of
the mountains a lion roared, rumble upon rumble. Two hyenas leapt from
the grass, ran fifty yards, and turned to look at us.

"Good-bye, simba! good-bye, fice!" we cried to them sadly.

A little farther we saw zebra, and the hartebeeste, and the gazelles.
One by one appeared and disappeared again the beasts with which we had
grown so familiar during our long months in the jungle. So remarkable
was the number of species that we both began to comment upon the fact,
to greet the animals, to bid them farewell, as though they were
reporting in order from the jungle to bid us God-speed. Half in earnest
we waved our hands to them and shouted our greetings to them in the
native--punda milia, kongoni, pa-a, fice, m'pofu, twiga, simba,
n'grooui, and the rest. Before our eyes the misty ranges hardened and
stiffened under the fierce sun. Our men marched steadily, cheerfully,
beating their loads in rhythm with their safari sticks, crooning under
their breaths, and occasionally breaking into full-voiced chant. They
were glad to be back from the long safari, back from across the Thirst,
from the high, cold country, from the dangers and discomforts of the
unknown. We rode a little wistfully, for these great plains and
mysterious jungles, these populous, dangerous, many-voiced nights, these
flaming, splendid dawnings and day-falls, these fierce, shimmering noons
we were to know no more.

Two days we had in Nairobi before going to the coast. There we paid off
and dismissed our men, giving them presents according to the length and
faithfulness of their service. They took them and departed, eagerly, as
was natural, to the families and the pleasures from which they had been
so long separated. Mohammed said good-bye, and went, and was sorry;
Kongoni departed, after many and sincere protestations; quiet little
Mavrouki came back three times to shake hands again, and disappeared
reluctantly--but disappeared; Leyeye went; Abba Ali followed the service
of his master, C.; "Timothy" received his present--in which he was