tremendous power and quickness.

We skinned him, and then rode four long hours to camp. We arrived at
dark, and at once set to work preparing the trophy. A dozen of us
squatted around the skin, working by lantern light. Memba Sasa had had
nothing to eat since before dawn, but in his pride and delight he
refused to touch a mouthful until the job was finished. Several times we
urged him to stop long enough for even a bite. He steadily declined, and
whetted his knife, his eyes gleaming with delight, his lips crooning one
of his weird Monumwezi songs. At eleven o'clock the task was done. Then
I presented Memba Sasa with a tall mug of coffee and lots of sugar. He
considered this a great honour.




XXIV.

THE FIFTEEN LIONS.


Two days before Captain D. and I were to return to Juja we approached,
about eleven o'clock in the morning, a long, low, rugged range of hills
called Lucania. They were not very high, but bold with cliffs, buttes,
and broken rocky stretches. Here we were to make our final hunt.

We led our safari up to the level of a boulder flat between two deep
cañons that ran down from the hills. Here should be water, so we
gathered under a lone little tree, and set about directing the simple
disposition of our camp. Herbert Spencer brought us a cold lunch, and we