ad. Suddenly there was a wild cry of "_faru!_" (rhino).

It was disconcerting, but after one or two hurried and flurried moments
we got our heavy batteries in readiness and prepared to sell his life as
cheaply as possible. But no rhino came. The grass was too deep to have
seen him if he had come, but we thought it was well to have a reception
committee ready just the same.

Then the rear ranks began to telescope into the front ranks. They came
forward two or three jumps at a time. They were visibly perturbed, but
presently they recovered enough to give expert testimony.

A huge rhino had been in the grass by the trail as we came along and had
waited until the whole line had passed. Then he jumped into the trail
and charged furiously after the porters. The latter, severally,
collectively, and frantically, leaped for their lives, dropping packs
and uttering hurried appeals to Allah.

[Drawing: _He Estimated the Length at Four Feet_]

After scattering a few dozen of the rank and file from his line of march
the rhino veered off and plunged out of sight in the tall grass. One of
the porters whose veracity is unquestioned by those who don't know him
estimated the forward horn to be four feet long. He said the rhino
charged earnestly and with hostile intent.

A rhino charging a _safari_ is always a pleasing diversion--pleasing
after it's all over and diverting while it lasts. The cry of "_faru_" is
a good deal like "car coming" at an automobile race. Instantly everybody
is all attention, with the attention equally divided between the rhino
and the nearest tree. If there is no tree the interest in the rhino
becomes more acute.

The thought of being impaled _en brochette_ on the horn of a rhino is
one of the least attractive forms of mental exertion that I know of. It
is a close second to the thought of being stepped on by a herd of
elephants marching single file.

Well, we survived the charge of the heavy brigade, and then moved
onward, ever and anon casting an alert glance at the deep clumps of
thicket along the way. Fortunately no more rhinos appeared and the next
thing we struck was Thanksgiving Day.

The proper way to celebrate that deservedly popular holiday is not by
sitting in tall grass with a can of beans and a bottle of pickles in the
foreground. This is said with all respect to the manufacturers of beans
and pickles who may advertise in the papers.

For a time, however, beans and pickles seemed to be the n