What are they? Native soldiers. No, you won't be
fighting anything; but they keep the men going, and act as sort
of sub-foremen in bossing the complicated work. Next is your
cook, and your own valet and that of your horse. Also your two
gunbearers.
"Hold on!" cries our friend. "I have only two guns, and I'm going
to carry one myself."
But this, he learns, is quite impossible. It is never done. It is
absolutely necessary, in this climate, to avoid all work.
That makes how many? Ten already, and there seem to be three tent
loads, one bed load, one chair and table load, one lantern load,
two miscellaneous loads, two cook loads, one personal box, and
fifteen chop boxes-total twenty-six, plus the staff, as above,
thirty-six. Why all the rest of the army?
Very simple: these thirty-six men have, according to regulation,
seven tents, and certain personal effects, and they must have
"potio" or a ration of one and a half pounds per diem. These
things must be carried by more men.
"I see," murmurs the American, crushed, "and these more men have
more tents and more potio, which must also be carried. It's like
the House that Jack Built."
So our American concludes still once again that the other fellow
knows his own game, and starts out. He learns he has what is
called a "modest safari"; and spares a fleeting wonder as to what
a really elaborate safari must be.
