As He Could Hardly, At His
Tender Age, Have Had Any Previous Experience With Fire, This
Instinctive Fear Was To Me Very Interesting.
The monkeys had only one genuine enemy.
That was an innocent
plush lion named Little Simba. It had been given us in joke
before we left California, we had tucked it into an odd corner of
our trunk, had discovered it there, carried it on safari out of
sheer idleness, and lo! it had become an important member of the
expedition. Every morning Mahomet or Yusuf packed it-or rather
him-carefully away in the tin box. Promptly at the end of the
day's march Little Simba was haled forth and set in a place of
honour in the centre of the table, and reigned there-or
sometimes in a little grass jungle constructed by his faithful
servitors-until the march was again resumed. His job in life was
to look after our hunting luck. When he failed to get us what we
wanted, he was punished; when he procured us what we desired he
was rewarded by having his tail sewed on afresh, or by being
presented with new black thread whiskers, or even a tiny blanket
of Mericani against the cold. This last was an especial favour
for finally getting us the greater kudu. Naturally as we did all
this in the spirit of an idle joke our rewards and punishments
were rather desultory. To our surprise, however, we soon found
that our boys took Little Simba quite seriously.
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