They began to
leap, springing straight up into the air as though from a
released spring, or diving forward and upward in long graceful
bounds like dolphins at sea. These leaps were incredible. Several
even jumped quite over the backs of others; and all without a
semblance of effort.
Along the fringe of the river, too, dwelt the lordly waterbuck,
magnificent and proud as the stags of Landseer; and the tiny
steinbuck and duiker, no bigger than jack-rabbits, but perfect
little deer for all that. The incredibly plebeian wart-hog rooted
about; and down in the bottom lands were leopards. I knocked one
off a rock one day. In the river itself dwelt hippopotamuses and
crocodiles. One of the latter dragged under a yearling calf just
below the house itself, and while we were there. Besides these
were of course such affairs as hyenas and jackals, and great
numbers of small game: hares, ducks, three kinds of grouse,
guinea fowl, pigeons, quail, and jack snipe, not to speak of a
variety of plover.
In the drier extents of dry grass atop the bluffs the dance birds
were especially numerous; each with his dance ring nicely trodden
out, each leaping and falling rhythmically for hours at a time.
Toward sunset great flights of sand grouse swarmed across the
yellowing sky from some distant feeding ground.
Near Juja I had one of the three experiences that especially
impressed on my mind the abundance of African big game. I had
stalked and wounded a wildebeeste across the N'derogo River, and
had followed him a mile or so afoot, hoping to be able to put in
a finishing shot. As sometimes happens the animal rather gained
strength as time went on; so I signalled for my horse, mounted,
and started out to run him down. After a quarter mile we began to
pick up the game herds. Those directly in our course ran straight
away; other herds on either side, seeing them running, came
across in a slant to join them. Inside of a half mile I was
driving before me literally thousands of head of game of several
varieties. The dust rose in a choking cloud that fairly obscured
the landscape, and the drumming of the hooves was like the
stampeding of cattle. It was a wonderful sight.
On the plains of Juja, also, I had my one real African Adventure,
when, as in the Sunday Supplements, I Stared Death in the
Face-also everlasting disgrace and much derision. We were just
returning to the farm after an afternoon's walk, and as we
approached I began to look around for much needed meat. A herd of
zebra stood in sight; so leaving Memba Sasa I began to stalk
them. My usual weapon for this sort of thing was the Springfield,
for which I carried extra cartridges in my belt. On this
occasion, however, I traded with Memba Sasa for the 405, simply
for the purpose of trying it out.
