poor Herbert Spencer. He tried so hard, and looked so scared, and was so
unbelievably stupid! Almost always he had to pick his orders word by
word from a vast amount of high-flown, unnecessary English.

"O Herbert Spencer," the command would run, "if you would condescend to
bend your mighty intellect to the lowly subject of maji, and will snatch
time from your profound cerebrations to assure its being moto sans, I
would esteem it infinite condescension on your part to let pesi pesi."

And Herbert, listening to all this with a painful, strained intensity,
would catch the six-key words, and would falter forth a trembling "N'dio
bwana."

Somewhere down deep within Herbert Spencer's make up, however, was a
sense of moral duty. When we finally broke camp for good, on the great
hill of Lucania, Herbert Spencer, relieved from his job, bolted like a
shot. As far as we could see him he was running at top speed. If he had
not possessed a sense of duty, he would have done this long ago.

We camped always well up on some of the numerous hills; for, although
anxious enough to find lions in the daytime, we had no use for them at
all by night. This usually meant that the boys had to carry water some
distance. We kept a canvas bath-tub full for the benefit of the dogs,
from which they could drink at any time. This necessary privilege after
a hard day nearly drove Captain D. crazy. It happened like this:

We were riding along the slope of a hillside, when in the ravine, a half
mile away and below us, we saw something dark pop up in sight and then
down again. We shouted to some of the savage Wakamba to go and
investigate. They closed in from all sides, their long spears poised to