"Because," they replied, with truly engaging frankness, "our chief,
Naiokotuku, thought that perhaps we might find elephant here in the
country we know; and then we should get for ourselves all the presents
you would give for finding elephant. But the elephant are not here now,
so the Wanderobo will get part of the present."

That was certainly candid. After some further talk we decided there was
no help for it; we must return to camp for a new start.

At this decision the Masai brightened. They volunteered to set off early
with Leyeye, to push ahead of us rapidly, and to have the Wanderobo in
camp by the time we reached there. We concealed somewhat cynical smiles,
and agreed.

The early start was made, but when we reached camp we found, not the
Wanderobo, but Leyeye and the Masai huddled over a fire. This was
exasperating, but we could not say much. After all, the whole matter was
no right of ours, but a manifestation of friendship on the part of
Naiokotuku. In the early afternoon the sky cleared, and the ambassadors
departed, promising faithfully to be back before we slept. We spent the
day writing and in gazing at the vivid view of the hillside, the forest,
and the distant miniature prospect before us. Finally we discovered what
made it in essence so strangely familiar. In vividness and clarity--even
in the crudity of its tones--it was exactly like a coloured photograph!

Of course the savages did not return that evening, nor did we really
expect them. Just as a matter of form we packed up the next morning, and
sat down to wait. Shortly before noon Leyeye and the Masai returned,
bringing with them two of the strange, shy, forest hunters.