Zebra Bark, Hyenas Laugh, Impallas Grunt, Ostriches Boom Like Drums, Leopards Utter A Plaintive Sigh, Hornbills Cry Like A Stage Child, Bushbucks Sound Like A Cross Between A Dog And A Squawky Toy-And So On.

There is only one safe rule of the novice in Africa:

NEVER BELIEVE A WORD THE JUNGLE AND VELDT PEOPLE TELL YOU.

These two-the impalla and the waterbuck-were the principal buck we would see close to the river. Occasionally, however, we came on a few oryx, down for a drink, beautiful big antelope, with white and black faces, roached manes, and straight, nearly parallel, rapier horns upward of three feet long. A herd of these creatures, the light gleaming on their weapons, held all at the same slant, was like a regiment of bayonets in the sun. And there were also the rhinoceroses to be carefully espied and avoided. They lay obliterated beneath the shade of bushes, and arose with a mighty blow-off of steam. Whereupon we withdrew silently, for we wanted to shoot no more rhinos, unless we had to.

Beneath all these obvious and startling things, a thousand other interesting matters were afoot. In the mass and texture of the jungle grew many strange trees and shrubs. One most scrubby, fat and leafless tree, looking as though it were just about to give up a discouraged existence, surprised us by putting forth, apparently directly from its bloated wood, the most wonderful red blossoms. Another otherwise self-respecting tree hung itself all over with plump bologna sausages about two feet long and five inches thick.

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