ngs sometimes, and
this act could have been nothing else than absurdest vanity. Hanging
around the old man's neck was a string of giraffe tails, whose hairs
were blacker than ink. On his arms he wore wristlets and armlets of
pure white ivory. In each hand he carried a gourd half full of pebbles,
which he rattled every now and then with a horrible noise.

He first, after he entered the inner circle, walked around three times,
staring at each man, rattling his gourds alternately, as he passed
round; then walking to the centre, while the bass drum began to hum and
murmur its deep sounds, he began to move his body to the right and left,
each hunter sighing deeply in sympathy with the now fast rising murmur
of all the drums in concert. Loud and louder beat the drums, until the
noise was deafening, and the voices of the singers became a demoniac
din; then lower and lower descended the voices and the drum-sounds,
until nothing was heard but the pacific and low murmur of the bass drum
and the low sighs of the dancers.

Then Soltali opened his mouth and sang, in the heroic vein, of his
doings in the elephant hunt in the far southern lands, the streamy land
of the Wa-marungu, in the hot swampy lands of the Wawemba, and on the
broad plains of Ututa; of his mishaps and fortunes, his narrow,
hair-breadth escapes, and his wonderful adventures, out of which the
author of the present history might make his fame and fortune were he
gifted with the power to translate into some kind of verse what Soltali
said.

Though demurring somewhat at the necessity of translating at all what
the old man said, the author feels compelled to give the gist of the
charge he gave the hunters concerning their conduct when they should
meet an elephant. He spoke authoritatively and well, and it is a pity
that a better translator is not at my side to assist me in the
translation of some of the Kituta polysyllables.

"Let the warrior Watuta, and the hunters bold
Heed and mark well the words of the Mganga old;
Let them behold these charms, these trophies of my might
Each of them reminds me of many a hard fight.
Should ye meet the elephant alone in a plain,
Seek not too hastily to give him the death pain.
Singly let none attack him--'tis an unequal fight;
For the elephant is strong, the embodiment of might;
But surround him coolly, and carefully all,
Be ready to obey your leader's slightest call;
Then charge on him, all shouting,