The Land of Footprints

S >> Stewart Edward White >> The Land of Footprints

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The kongoni progresses by a series of long high bounds. While in
midair he half tucks up his feet, which gives him the appearance
of an automatic toy. This gait looks deliberate, but is really
quite fast, as the mounted sportsman discovers when he enters
upon a vain pursuit. If the horse is an especially good one, so
that the kongoni feels himself a trifle closely pressed, the
latter stops bouncing and runs. Then he simply fades away into
the distance.

These beasts are also given to chasing each other all over the
landscape. When a gentleman kongoni conceives a dislike for
another gentleman kongoni, he makes no concealment of his
emotions, but marches up and prods him in the ribs. The ensuing
battle is usually fought out very stubbornly with much feinting,
parrying, clashing of the lyre-shaped horns; and a good deal of
crafty circling for a favourable opening. As far as I was ever
able to see not much real damage is inflicted; though I could
well imagine that only skilful fence prevented unpleasant
punctures in soft spots. After a time one or the other feels
himself weakening. He dashes strongly in, wheels while his
antagonist is braced, and makes off. The enemy pursues. Then,
apparently, the chase is on for the rest of the day. The victor
is not content merely to drive his rival out of the country; he
wants to catch him. On that object he is very intent; about as
intent as the other fellow is of getting away. I have seen two
such beasts almost run over a dozen men who were making no effort
to keep out of sight. Long after honour is satisfied, indeed, as
it seems to me, long after the dictates of common decency would
call a halt that persistent and single-minded pursuer bounds
solemnly and conscientiously along in the wake of his disgusted
rival.

These and the zebra and wildebeeste were at Juja the most
conspicuous game animals. If they could not for the moment be
seen from the veranda of the house itself, a short walk to the
gate was sufficient to reveal many hundreds. Among them fed herds
of the smaller Thompson's gazelle, or "Tommies." So small were
they that only their heads could be seen above the tall grass as
they ran.

To me there was never-ending fascination in walking out over
those sloppy plains in search of adventure, and in the pleasure
of watching the beasts. Scarcely less fascination haunted a
stroll down the river canyons or along the tops of the bluffs
above them. Here the country was broken into rocky escarpments in
which were caves; was clothed with low and scattered brush; or
was wooded in the bottom lands. Naturally an entirely different
set of animals dwelt here; and in addition one was often treated
to the romance of surprise. Herds of impalla haunted these edges;
graceful creatures, trim and pretty with wide horns and beautiful
glowing red coats. Sometimes they would venture out on the open
plains, in a very compact band, ready to break back for cover at
the slightest alarm; but generally fed inside the fringe of
bushes. Once from the bluff above I saw a beautiful herd of over
a hundred pacing decorously along the river bottom below me,
single file, the oldest buck at the head, and the miscellaneous
small buck bringing up the rear after the does. I shouted at
them. Immediately the solemn procession broke. 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. At a few paces over three
hundred yards I landed on the zebra, but did not knock him down.
Then I set out to follow. It was a long job and took me far, for
again and again he joined other zebra, when, of course, I could
not tell one from t'other. My only expedient was to frighten the
lot. There upon the uninjured ones would distance the one that
was hurt. The latter kept his eye on me. Whenever I managed to
get within reasonable distance, I put up the rear sight of the
405, and let drive. I heard every shot hit, and after each hit
was more than a little astonished to see the zebra still on his
feet, and still able to wobble on.* The fifth shot emptied the
rifle. As I had no more cartridges for this arm, I approached to
within sixty yards, and stopped to wait either for him to fall,
or for a very distant Memba Sasa to come up with more cartridges.
Then the zebra waked up. He put his ears back and came straight
in my direction. This rush I took for a blind death flurry, and
so dodged off to one side, thinking that he would of course go by
me. Not at all! He swung around on the circle too, and made after
me. I could see that his ears were back, eyes blazing, and his
teeth snapping with rage. It was a malicious charge, and, as
such, with due deliberation, I offer it to sportsman's annals. As
I had no more cartridges I ran away as fast as I could go.
Although I made rather better time than ever I had attained to
before, it was evident that the zebra would catch me; and as the
brute could paw, bite, and kick, I did not much care for the
situation. Just as he had nearly reached me, and as I was trying
to figure on what kind of a fight I could put up with a clubbed
rifle barrel, he fell dead. To be killed by a lion is at least a
dignified death; but to be mauled by a zebra!

I am sorry I did not try out this heavy-calibred rifle oftener
at long range. It was a marvellously effective weapon at close
quarters; but I have an idea-but only a tentative idea-that
above three hundred yards its velocity is so reduced by air
resistance against the big blunt bullet as greatly to impair its
hitting powers.

We generally got back from our walks or rides just before dark
to find the house gleaming with lights, a hot bath ready, and a
tray of good wet drinks next the easy chairs. There, after
changing our clothes, we sipped and read the papers-two months
off the press, but fresh arrived for all that-until a
white-robed, dignified figure appeared in the doorway to inform
us that dinner was ready. Our ways were civilized and soft, then,
until the morrow when once again, perhaps, we went forth into the
African wilderness.

Juja is a place of startling contrasts-of naked savages clipping
formal hedges, of windows opening from a perfectly appointed
brilliantly lighted dining-room to a night whence float the lost
wails of hyenas or the deep grumbling of lions, of cushioned
luxurious chairs in reach of many books, but looking out on hills
where the game herds feed, of comfortable beds with fine linen
and soft blankets where one lies listening to the voices of an
African night, or the weirder minor house noises whose origin and
nature no man could guess, of tennis courts and summer houses, of
lawns and hammocks, of sundials and clipped hedges separated only
by a few strands of woven wire from fields identical with those
in which roamed the cave men of the Pleistocene. But to Billy was
reserved the most ridiculous contrast of all. Her bedroom opened
to a veranda a few feet above a formal garden. This was a very
formal garden, with a sundial, gravelled walks, bordered flower
beds, and clipped border hedges. One night she heard a noise
outside. Slipping on a warm wrap and seizing her trusty revolver
she stole out on the veranda to investigate. She looked over the
veranda rail. There just below her, trampling the flower beds,
tracking the gravel walks, endangering the sundial, stood a
hippopotamus!

We had neighbours six or seven miles away. At times they came
down to spend the night and luxuriate in the comforts of
civilization. They were a Lady A., and her nephew, and a young
Scotch acquaintance the nephew had taken into partnership. They
had built themselves circular houses of papyrus reeds with
conical thatched roofs and earth floors, had purchased ox teams
and gathered a dozen or so Kikuyus, and were engaged in breaking
a farm in the wilderness. The life was rough and hard, and Lady
A. and her nephew gently bred, but they seemed to be having quite
cheerfully the time of their lives. The game furnished them meat,
as it did all of us, and they hoped in time that their labours
would make the land valuable and productive. Fascinating as was
the life, it was also one of many deprivations. At Juja were a
number of old copies of Life, the pretty girls in which so
fascinated the young men that we broke the laws of propriety by
presenting them, though they did not belong to us. C., the
nephew, was of the finest type of young Englishman, clean cut,
enthusiastic, good looking, with an air of engaging vitality and
optimism. His partner, of his own age, was an insufferable youth.
Brought up in some small Scottish valley, his outlook had never
widened. Because he wanted to buy four oxen at a cheaper price,
he tried desperately to abrogate quarantine regulations. If he
had succeeded, he would have made a few rupees, but would have
introduced disease in his neighbours' herds. This consideration
did not affect him. He was much given to sneering at what he
could not understand; and therefore, a great deal met with his
disapproval. His reading had evidently brought him down only to
about the middle sixties; and affairs at that date were to him
still burning questions. Thus he would declaim vehemently over
the Alabama claims.

"I blush with shame," he would cry, "when I think of England's
attitude in that matter."

We pointed out that the dispute had been amicably settled by the
best minds of the time, had passed between the covers of history,
and had given way in immediate importance to several later
topics.

"This vacillating policy," he swept on, "annoys me. For my part,
I should like to see so firm a stand taken on all questions that
in any part of the world, whenever a man, and wherever a man,
said 'I am an Englishman? everybody else would draw back!'"

He was an incredible person. However, I was glad to see him; he
and a few others of his kind have consoled me for a number of
Americans I have met abroad. Lady A., with the tolerant
philosophy of her class, seemed merely amused. I have often since
wondered how this ill-assorted partnership turned out.

Two other neighbours of ours dropped in once or twice-twenty-six
miles on bicycles, on which they could ride only a portion of the
distance. They had some sort of a ranch up in the Ithanga Hills;
and were two of the nicest fellows one would want to meet,
brimful of energy, game for anything, and had so good a time
always that the grumpiest fever could not prevent every one else
having a good time too. Once they rode on their bicycles forty
miles to Nairobi, danced half the night at a Government House
ball, rode back in the early morning, and did an afternoon's
plowing! They explained this feat by pointing out most
convincingly that the ground was just right for plowing, but they
did not want to miss the ball!

Occasionally a trim and dapper police official would drift in on
horseback looking for native criminals; and once a safari came
by. Twelve miles away was the famous Kamiti Farm of Heatly, where
Roosevelt killed his buffalo; and once or twice Heatly himself, a
fine chap, came to see us. Also just before I left with Duirs for
a lion hunt on Kapiti, Lady Girouard, wife of the Governor, and
her nephew and niece rode out for a hunt. In the African fashion,
all these people brought their own personal servants. It makes
entertaining easy. Nobody knows where all these boys sleep; but
they manage to tuck away somewhere, and always show up after a
mysterious system of their own whenever there is anything to be
done.

We stayed at Juja a little over three weeks. Then most
reluctantly said farewell and returned to Nairobi in preparation
for a long trip to the south.

XXIX. CHAPTER THE LAST

With our return from Juja to Nairobi for a breathing space, this
volume comes to a logical conclusion. In it I have tried to give
a fairly comprehensive impression-it could hardly be a picture
of so large a subject-of a portion of East Equatorial Africa,
its animals, and its people. Those who are sufficiently
interested will have an opportunity in a succeeding volume of
wandering with us even farther afield. The low jungly coast
region; the fierce desert of the Serengetti; the swift sullen
rhinoceros-haunted stretches of the Tsavo; Nairobi, the strangest
mixture of the twentieth centuries A.D. and B.C.; Mombasa with
its wild, barbaric passionate ebb and flow of life, of colour, of
throbbing sound, the great lions of the Kapiti Plains, the Thirst
of the Loieta, the Masai spearmen, the long chase for the greater
kudu; the wonderful, high unknown country beyond the Narossara
and other affairs will there be detailed. If the reader of this
volume happens to want more, there he will find it.

APPENDIX I

Most people are very much interested in how hot it gets in such
tropics as we traversed. Unfortunately it is very difficult to
tell them. Temperature tables have very little to do with the
matter, for humidity varies greatly. On the Serengetti at lower
reaches of the Guaso Nyero I have seen it above 110 degrees. It
was hot, to be sure, but not exhaustingly so. On the other hand,
at 90 or 95 degrees the low coast belt I have had the sweat run
from me literally in streams; so that a muddy spot formed
wherever I stood still. In the highlands, moreover, the nights
were often extremely cold. I have recorded night temperatures as
low as 40 at 7000 feet of elevation; and noon temperatures as low
65.

Of more importance than the actual or sensible temperature of the
air is the power of the sun's rays. At all times of year this is
practically constant; for the orb merely swings a few degrees
north and south of the equator, and the extreme difference in
time between its risings or settings is not more than twenty minutes.
This power is also practically constant whatever the temperature
of the air and is dangerous even on a cloudy day, when the heat
waves are effectually screened off, but when the actinic rays are
as active as ever. For this reason the protection of helmet and
spine pad should never be omitted, no matter what the condition
of the weather, between nine o'clock and four. A very brief
exposure is likely to prove fatal. It should be added that some
people stand these actinic rays better than others.

Such being the case, mere temperature tables could have little
interest to the general reader. I append a few statistics,
selected from many, and illustrative of the different conditions.

Locality. Elevation 6am noon 8pm Apparent conditions
Coast --- 80 90 76 Very hot and sticky
Isiola River 2900 65 94 84 Hot but not exhausting
Tans River 3350 68 98 79 Hot but not exhausting
Near Meru 5450 62 80 70 Very pleasant
Serengetti Plains 2200 78 106 86 Hot and humid
Narossara River 5450 54 89 69 Very pleasant
Narossara Mts. 7400 42 80 50 Chilly
Narossara Mts. 6450 40 62 52 Cold

APPENDIX II

GAME ANIMALS COLLECTED

Lion Bush pig Grant's gazelle
Serval cat Baboon Thompson's gazelle
Cheetah Colobus Gerenuk gazelle
Black-backed jackal Hippopotamus Coke's hartebeests
Silver jackal Rhinoceros Jackson's hartebeests
Striped hyena Crocodile Neuman's hartebeests
Spotted hyena Python Chandler's reedbuck
Fennec fox Ward's zebra Bohur reedbuck
Honey badger Grevy's zebra Beisa ox
Aardewolf Notata gazelle Fringe-eared oryx
Wart-hog Roberts' gazelle Duiker
Waterbuck Klipspringer Harvey's duiker
Sing-sing Dik-dik Greater kudu
Oribi (3 varieties) Wildebeeste Lesser kudu
Eland Roosevelt's wildebeests Sable antelope
Roan antelope Buffalo
Bushbuck Topi

Total, fifty-four kinds

GAME BIRDS COLLECTED

Marabout Gadwall Lesser bustard
Egret European stork Guinea fowl
Glossy ibis Quail Giant guinea fowl
Egyptian goose Sand grouse Green pigeon
White goose Francolin Blue pigeon
English snipe Spur fowl Dove (2 species)
Mallard duck Greater bustard

Total, twenty-two kinds

APPENDIX III

For the benefit of the sportsman and gun crank who want plain
facts and no flapdoodle, the following statistics are offered. To
the lay reader this inclusion will be incomprehensible; but I
know my gun crank as I am one myself!

Army Springfield, model 1903 to take the 1906 cartridge, shooting
the Spitzer sharp point bullet. Stocked to suit me by Ludwig
Wundhammer, and fitted with Sheard gold bead front sight and
Lyman aperture receiver sight. With this I did most my shooting,
as the trajectory was remarkably good, and the killing power
remarkable. Tried out both the old-fashioned soft point bullets
and the sharp Spitzer bullets, but find the latter far the more
effective. In fact the paralyzing shock given by the Spitzer is
almost beyond belief. African animals are notably tenacious of
life; but the Springfield dropped nearly half the animals dead
with one shot; a most unusual record, as every sportsman will
recognize. The bullets seemed on impact always to flatten
slightly at the base, the point remaining intact-to spin widely
on the axis, and to plunge off at an angle. This action of course
depended on the high velocity. The requisite velocity, however
seemed to keep up within all shooting ranges. A kongoni I killed
at 638 paces (measured), and another at 566 paces both exhibited
this action of the bullet. I mention these ranges because I have
seen the statement in print that the remaining velocity beyond
350 yards would not be sufficient in this arm to prevent the
bullet passing through cleanly. I should also hasten to add that
I do not habitually shoot at game at the above ranges; but did so
in these two instances for the precise purpose of testing the
arm. Metal fouling did not bother me at all, though I had been
led to expect trouble from it. The weapon was always cleaned with
water so boiling hot that the heat of the barrel dried it. When
occasionally flakes of metal fouling became visible a Marble
brush always sufficed to remove enough of it. It was my habit to
smear the bullets with mobilubricant before placing them in the
magazine. This was not as much of a nuisance as it sounds. A
small tin box about the size of a pill box lasted me the whole
trip; and only once did I completely empty the magazine at one
time. On my return I tested the rifle very thoroughly for
accuracy. In spite of careful cleaning the barrel was in several
places slightly corroded. For this the climate was responsible.
The few small pittings, however, did not seem in any way to have
affected the accuracy, as the rifle shot the following groups:
3-1/2 inches at 200 yards; 7-1/4 inches at 300 yards; and
11-1/2 inches at 500 yards.*

*It shot one five-shot 1-2/3 inch group at 200 yds., and several
others at all distances less than the figures given, but I am
convinced these must have been largely accidental.

These groups were not made from a machine rest, however; as none
was available. The complete record with this arm for my whole
stay in Africa was 307 hits out of 395 cartridges fired,
representing 185 head of game killed. Most of this shooting was
for meat and represented also all sorts of "varmints" as well.

The 405 Winchester. This weapon was sighted like the Springfield,
and was constantly in the field as my second gun. For lions it
could not be beaten; as it was very accurate, delivered a hard
blow, and held five cartridges. Beyond 125 to 150 yards one had
to begin to guess at distance, so for ordinary shooting I
preferred the Springfield. In thick brush country, however, where
one was likely to come suddenly on rhinoceroes, but where one
wanted to be ready always for desirable smaller game, the
Winchester was just the thing. It was short, handy, and reliable.
One experience with a zebra 300-350 yards has made me question
whether at long (hunting) ranges the remaining velocity of the
big blunt nosed bullet is not seriously reduced; but as to that I
have not enough data for a final conclusion. I have no doubt,
however, that at such ranges, and beyond, the little Springfield
has more shocking power. Of course at closer ranges the
Winchester is by far the more powerful. I killed one rhinoceros
with the 405, one buffalo and one hippo; but should consider it
too light for an emergency gun against the larger dangerous
animals, such as buffalo and rhinoceros. If one has time for
extreme accuracy, and can pick the shot, it is plenty big; but I
refer now to close quarters in a hurry. I had no trouble whatever
with the mechanism of this arm; nor have I ever had trouble with
any of the lever actions, although I have used them for many
years. As regards speed of fire the controversy between the lever
and bolt action advocates seems to me foolish in the extreme.
Either action can be fired faster than it should be fired in the
presence of game. It is my belief that any man, no matter how
practised or how cool, can stampede himself beyond his best
accuracy by pumping out his shots too rapidly. This is especially
true in the face of charging dangerous game. So firmly do I
believe this that I generally take the rifle from my shoulder
between each shot. Even aimed rapid fire is of no great value as
compared with better aimed slower fire. The first bullet delivers
to an animal's nervous system about all the shock it can absorb.
If the beast is not thereby knocked down and held down,
subsequent shots can accomplish that desirable result only by
reaching a vital spot or by tearing tissue. As an example of this
I might instance a waterbuck into which I saw my companion empty
five heavy 465 and double 500 bullets from cordite rifles before
it fell! Thus if the game gets to its feet after the first shock,
it is true that the hunter will often empty into it six or seven
more bullets without apparent result, unless he aims carefully
for a centrally vital point. It follows that therefore a second
shot aimed with enough care to land it in that point is worth a
lot more than a half dozen delivered in three or four seconds
with only the accuracy necessary to group decently at very short
range, even if all of them hit the beast. I am perfectly aware
that this view will probably be disputed; but it is the result of
considerable experience, close observation and real interest in
the game. The whole record of the Winchester was 56 hits out of
70 cartridges fired; representing 27 head of game.

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