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Updated: May 28, 2025
"They'll need at least four or five days before we can put them at a lion well, we've got to chance it." The next five days were the longest in the history of the expedition. The Colonel, Means, and Ulyate remained at Kijabe with the outfit.
Kearton touched a match to the pile of grass, and blew on it in his hurry, and as the small flame sprang into life he threw on some green stuff and in a thin blue column the smoke rose up straight into the air. "That will fetch the boys, all right," he said, and we followed Ulyate down to the plain.
The consultation resulted in the decision to make a permanent camp here and hunt the neighboring country until Ulyate should return. For the succeeding three days the Colonel laid out a plan of campaign; simple, but effective, and limited only by the necessity of keeping within reasonable distance of the water.
That night we held our second consultation. Ulyate had returned from Kijabe with the extra wagonload of supplies, which placed us in a position to move again immediately.
It was the opinion of all in the party that the lions lived in the neighborhood, probably in the rocks. "Very likely," said Ulyate; "no one has ever hunted that corner of the valley. There is no water there." At first the Colonel was anxious to start back for them at once, hauling the water with us; but after a moment's reflection he was compelled to concede that it was time to call a halt.
So the beast, whatever it was, had come to have a look at us in the night. For the first time then, as they swung back for the rocks, we faintly heard a hound give tongue. It was the only sound in the stillness. Kearton began tearing up the dry grass that grew in the cracks between the rocks, and piled it in a heap. "Not yet," said Ulyate; "wait till we're sure."
In the pause that followed the delivery of this opinion on a matter that had been thrashed out a hundred times before, his horse gradually carried him farther ahead until he had gone beyond the range of talk. Ulyate, the white hunter, was the next. Kearton had just finished filling his pipe and he silently reached out the bag of tobacco. But Ulyate shook his head. "Throat's too dry," he said.
The Colonel, the two cowboys, and Ulyate reached the Rugged Rocks at least an hour ahead, and when the rest of us came straggling in we found them seated on the ground with their backs to the bole of a tree. None of them looked up as we halted there, dismounted, and turned the horses loose. Then Ulyate spoke. "Water hole has dried," he said. There was nothing to be done about it.
"I'd better wait till the Colonel comes along," he explained. "The Colonel don't carry any weapons." Loveless stopped with him, and, as Ulyate was somewhere behind with the ox-wagons and porters, this left Kearton, Gobbet, and myself to ride on by ourselves.
On came the hunt, following close to the southern base of the reef. The hounds could be heard giving tongue in turn now. The Colonel rode behind, leaning forward and cheering on the dogs. "He's made for the rocks all right come on," said Ulyate as, rifle in hand, he started down the cliff.
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