By day they inhabited the fastnesses of the mountain ranges. We never
succeeded in tracing them in that large and labyrinthine country; nor at
any time could we induce them to come to kills. Either their natural
prey was so abundant that they did not fancy ready-killed food; or, what
is more likely, the cold nights prevented the odour of the carcasses
from carrying far. We heard lions every night; and every morning we
conscientiously turned out before daybreak to crawl up to our bait
through the wet, cold grass, but with no results. That very night we
were jerked from a sound sleep by a tremendous roar almost in camp. So
close was it that it seemed to each of us but just outside the tent. We
came up all standing. The lion, apparently, was content with that
practical joke, for he moved off quietly. Next morning we found where
the tracks had led down to water, not ten yards away.

We spent the rest of that day spying on the game herds. It is
fascinating work, to lie belly down on a tall ant hill, glasses steadied
by elbows, picking out the individual animals and discussing them
low-voiced with a good companion. C. and I looked over several hundred
hartebeeste, trying to decide their identity. We were neither of us
familiar with the animal, and had only recollections of the book
distinctions. Finally I picked out one that seemed to present the most
marked characteristics--and missed him clean at 280 yards. Then I took
three shots at 180 yards to down a second choice. The poor shooting was
forgotten, however, in our determination that this was indeed Neumanii.

A vain hunt for lions occupied all the next day. The third morning C.
started for the boma, leaving Billy and me to look about us as we
willed. Shortly after he had departed a delegation of Masai came in,
dressed in their best, and bearing presents of milk. Leyeye was summoned
as interpreter.