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Updated: May 4, 2025
We had followed for about half a mile through alternate glades and belts of jungle, when we suddenly spied a Veddah hiding behind a tree about sixty yards from us. The moment that he saw he was discovered, he set off at full speed, but two of our coolies, who acted as gunbearers, started after him.
And then when the long line of horsemen, native soldiers, porters, tent boys, gunbearers, ox gharries, and all began to wind their sinuous way over veldt or through forest, there was none in the line more picturesque than Ali and J.T. Jr. surrounded by the affable Little Wanderobo Dog.
Clifford Hill and myself, accompanied by our gunbearers and syces, then rode leisurely down the length of a shallow brushy cañon for a mile or so. There we dismounted and sat down to await the arrival of the others. These including Harold Hill, Captain D., five or six Wakamba spearmen, our own carriers, and the dogs came along more slowly, beating the bottoms on the off chance of game.
We were nine miles from camp and food, and we knew that at six o'clock darkness would suddenly descend, leaving us out in a rhino-infested country, far from camp. The water was nearly gone and the general outlook was far from pleasing. The gunbearers skinned the lion. My first shot had struck one of his back teeth, breaking it squarely off, and then passed through the fleshy part of the neck.
We shook hands with Fundi. "My son," said I, "you're a true sport, and you'll surely get yours later." He did not understand me, but he grinned. The gunbearers began to drift in, also completely pumped. They set up a feeble shout when they saw the dead lion. It was a good maned beast, three feet six inches at the shoulder, and nine feet long.
This, then, was the dramatic situation at about twelve o'clock noon on November fifteenth, eight miles east of the Nzoia River, near Mount Elgon: Eight cow elephants, two totos, one ex-president with a double-barreled cordite rifle thirty yards away, supported by three other hunters similarly armed, with native gunbearers held in the rear as a supporting column.
As we proceeded his movements became slower and more cautious, and the plodding drudgery of following an elephant trail gave way to suppressed excitement. Slower and slower he went, and finally he indicated that only the gunbearers and ourselves should continue. The porters were left behind, and in single file we moved on tiptoe along the trail.
I stayed until the last man had disappeared; then, after preparing my Winchester, brought up the rear, followed by my gunbearers with their stock of ammunition. As we were about disappearing beyond the last hut, a man darted out of his hut, and uttered an exclamation of alarm, and loud voices were heard as if in dispute.
It was most distinctly a case of divided attention, one eye on those menacing rhinos, and one trying to attend to the always delicate operation of aligning sights and signalling from a rather distracted brain just when to pull the trigger. Our faithful gunbearers crouched by us, the heavy guns ready. One rhino seemed either peaceable or stupid.
To particularize, they agree to supply for this amount, a complete outfit of tents, foods, porters, camp attendants, gunbearers, horses, mules or ox teams, as may be required, and a native head-man or overseer.
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