On our arrival in London about the middle of January of this
year, the work of preparation was continued at once. Outside of
the minor details of the outfit, such as personal equipment,
saddlery, medicines, bandages, and so forth, the first matter to
receive attention was the organization of the picture department.
Mr. Cherry Kearton was sought to take charge of this branch of
the expedition. Kearton--a powerfully built Yorkshireman--is an
experienced cinematograph photographer and a naturalist of no
small reputation. He had taken moving pictures in Africa before,
and so he knew the climatic conditions there--the heat radiation
and the different intensities of light. He also knew the animals
the Colonel was going to rope. But besides being a cinematograph
expert and a naturalist, he was also a sportsman.
When Kearton learned of the nature of the undertaking, he was
skeptical. He had no more than a slight acquaintance with the
Colonel then, and only a vague, hearsay knowledge of what the
American Cowboy could do. Evidently his mind was divided by the
dictates of common sense and the sporting instinct. On many
occasions during this time, he questioned the feasibility of the
experiment in the light of what he knew of the African beasts.
The agreement, in documentary form, was spread out on the table
in the Boma Trading Company's London office when he finally
wanted to know how in Heaven's name we thought this thing could
be done.
"We'll do it," the Colonel said quietly. That was all.
"Well, there's a picture in it, anyway," said Kearton, and signed
the papers.
With his assistant, David Gobbet, two cinematograph machines and
tripods, hand cameras and developing apparatus, he set sail
immediately for Africa, leaving an order for thirty thousand feet
of film to be divided between two manufacturers and to be
forwarded as soon as possible.
In the meantime, Colonel Jones was hard at work collecting a
rather unusual assortment of articles. The experience of a
life-time enabled him to foresee what kind of materials were
absolutely necessary, and what kind might prove useful on the
present expedition. Naturally, the articles required were not
usually in stock, but the London shopkeeper is proverbially
obliging and imperturbable.
One rainy morning the Colonel walked into a hardware store and
asked to see some handcuffs. A pair was shown him.
"Not large enough," said the Colonel.
"How large would you want them, sir?"
"Twice that size."
"May I ask for what purpose you require them, sir?"
"For lions," said the Colonel.
"Precisely, handcuffs for lions; yes, you need large ones. I am
afraid I have none in stock just now, but I can have them made
for you within a few days."
It was the same with almost everything the Colonel wanted to
purchase; everything had to be made especially for him after his
own description--handcuffs, collars and belts, chains, branding
irons, a block and fall, muzzles of different sizes, corkscrew
picket-pins for holding the turn of a rope, and a nondescript
article shaped like a huge pair of tongs, for which I feel sure
there is no name in any trade, but which looked to be a handy
implement for clamping the jaws of a beast. To have these things
made according to specifications took time and an endless amount
of running about. Besides, there was the more ordinary part of
the equipment to procure: English dogs, both foxhounds and
terriers, horse-blankets, extra ropes, horseshoes, and so on.
When the last of the expedition sailed from Southampton, there
were forty-eight pieces of baggage on the list.
This last contingent reached Nairobi at noon on March 3, and for
the first time then all the members of the expedition met
together. Loveless proved to be a man a little below the medium
height; he held himself very erect, walked with quick, energetic
steps, and wore a blond mustache. He made polite inquiries as to
our voyage out, commented on the hot weather, and fully explained
the condition of the horses and dogs. Means was taller. He
carried his head slightly forward and wore his black hair brushed
low down over his forehead. He stood slumped on one hip, so that
one shoulder also was lower than the other.
"Please' to meet you," he said.
On our arrival at Nairobi the first matter to be decided was the
district to be worked. The choice lay between the Sotik and the
Kapeti Plains. According to the usual batch of contradictory
stories in such cases, the game was said to be equally plentiful,
or equally scarce, in both districts. Both had been shot over
considerably of late, and, anyhow, no one could really tell us
where the most game was to be found; because, as one informant
explained, the game everywhere shifted so frequently and so fast.
But the Sotik and the country approaching it--the Kedong and Rift
Valleys, and the Mau--were reported to be more or less free from
ticks, and, as the health of the horses was of the gravest
importance to us, we determined to work this district first.
The Colonel and his two cowboys, Loveless and Means, were ready
to start at once. Eight out of the ten horses were in fine
condition. With but one exception, the dogs had come through
safely, though all were suffering somewhat from distemper. It was
concluded, however, that they would recover just as rapidly in
the open country as they would in Nairobi.
Kearton and Gobbet were ready. Kearton had built a dark room in
Nairobi, because his earlier experience had taught him that the
pictures could not be developed with any degree of satisfaction
in the field. His four special porters to carry the cameras and
tripods--porters he had trained on previous safaris--were only
waiting for the word to move. Mr. Ray Ulyate, the white hunter to
the expedition, had already gone to Kijabe to prepare his
ox-wagons against our coming, and the Boma Trading Company had
engaged a special train to leave Nairobi on the fifth.
On the morning of that day we held the customary procession of an
outgoing safari down the main street of Nairobi to the waiting
train. The Colonel rode first, with the assorted pack of dogs at
his horse's heels. Then came the cowboys with the led horses;
then the picture department; then the long single line of black
porters, bringing up the rear. Above the loads on the porters'
heads two flags flashed their colors in the sunlight--the stars
and stripes, and the house flag of the company, with the white
buffalo skull against the red background, and underneath the
motto, Sapiens qui Vigilat.
The night had already fallen black and cold when the special
train crested the top of the divide and coasted down grade into
Kijabe. The most imposing structure in the place is the railroad
station, with its red wooden building propped up on piles, its
tin guest-house alongside, and the neat gravel platform growing a
clump of trees. The rest of Kijabe is composed of four other
houses, the goods-shed, an open-faced Indian booth, the
post-office, and the water-tank. Ulvate met us with a lantern,
for the station lights are dim, and we detrained in the face of
the high wind that always blows there from sunset to dawn, and
picketed the horses among the trees of the station platform.
Because a large part of the revenue of the country is derived
from the visiting hunters, a safari is accorded privileges out of
the ordinary. So, as a matter of course, we took possession of
the station and camped in the tin guest-house for the night.
The morning came clear and hot and still. The railroad at Kijabe
runs along the face of the hills, so that the land drops down
abruptly to the plains below, and you can look away for miles
over the Kedong and Rift valleys, with the two sentinel extinct
volcanoes rising black against the heat-blurred sky;
The floors of the valleys are laid with volcanic ash. But on
first appearances the land looks much the same as the regulation
veldt or certain parts of our own Western plains. It is only by
the fineness of the dust that hangs about the horses' feet, and
the peculiar quality of the thirst that dries in the throat, that
you know this is no ordinary soil.
The sun was high in the heavens before we finally started from
Kijabe and descended the rough road to the level ground, with the
brakes on the ox-wagons squealing harshly and the horses treading
silently in the dust.
We had planned to camp at Sewell's farm that night. It was only
about four hours away, but a short trek the first day is always a
good rule to follow. It gives every one a chance, so to speak, to
shake down well into the saddle. We had gone but a short
distance, however, when one thing became strikingly apparent:
Gobbet did not know how to ride! He was mounted on a white
African pony that we had found it necessary to add to our string.
The pony was stolid, lazy, and easy-gaited, but Gobbet's
unfamiliar attitude toward his mount was unmistakable.
Now it is a delicate matter in any country to broach the question
of a man's horsemanship, but presently Gobbet introduced the
subject of his own accord.
"Of course I can't ride a horse," he said. "Have never been on
one before. When Mr. Kearton spoke to me about coming out here
with him, he just asked me if I could ride, and I told him surely
I could ride--but I didn't tell him I meant a bicycle."
After all, the matter was of no great importance. Gobbet was
young and thin and active, with sharp black eyes, and the work
that lay ahead of us would probably teach him to ride in short
order--and it did.
We had little expectation of finding either a lion or a rhino on
that first day's trip. We were traveling on a regular road,
making a kind of initial march. The fringe of scrub at the
beginning of the valley had been left behind some three or four
miles when Ulyate suddenly reined in his horse and pointed to
three black dots on the veldt about half a mile away.
The black dots proved to he only wart-hogs, but we wanted them,
and, so long as there was little chance of our finding any of the
more important species of game, we took the opportunity that
offered. The Colonel and the two cowboys tightened their cinches
and then rode out to the westward to round up the beasts.
"Drive 'em back to us," Kearton called after them, and Means
waved his hand by way of answer.
Behind us, the line of porters was coming up along the road. They
were straggling badly, broken up into little sections of threes
and fours, so that the last of them were not yet in sight. Gobbet
was sent back to hurry forward the four special porters with the
cameras, and when these finally arrived upon the scene, their
faces covered with dust and sweat, the horsemen had dwindled to
dots only a little larger than the hogs themselves.
Kearton placed the cameras a few yards apart, and there we
waited, watching the distant specks.
Two of the riders disappeared into a far patch of scrub. The
third began swinging to the southward. His horse was galloping
after something we could not see.
In the meantime the safari was coming up, and as each section
arrived it was halted, and the porters put down their loads and
sat on them. Some of them turned their backs upon the scene in
total indifference as to what was coming next; others regarded
the cameras with expressions of mild curiosity.
Little by little the third horseman had swung round so that he
was headed due east, riding straight at us. Rapidly the speck
grew larger, and the two other riders came out of the scrub and
joined the chase.
Nearer and nearer they came, with the dust cloud swirling behind
them. Gobbet began turning the handle of his camera, and the whir
of the machine sounded loud in the stillness. One or two of the
porters jumped to their feet and pointed. Kearton waited.
"I hope they won't come straight into the lens," he said. "If
they do, it won't make a good picture. They ought to come at an
angle. So," he explained, placing his hand obliquely to the line
of focus. Then he bent over, laid his eye to the gun-sight of the
machine, and likewise began turning.
The thunder of the chase could be heard now, and we could see
that it was Loveless leading, on his black, with Means and the
Colonel close behind and the wart-hog some forty yards ahead. The
beast was running strong. His huge snout was thrust forward, and
his upturned tusks gleamed in the sunlight. But gradually the
black horse gained on him, and Loveless loosened the rope from
his saddle and began swinging the long noose round and round his
head.
On came the wart-hog, straight for Kearton's camera.
Kearton straightened up above the machine and waved his helmet
frantically.
"Give over, give over!" he shouted.
"You're driving him right into the picture. It's no good. Give
over!"
The chase never swerved an inch, and Kearton bent to his work
again, cursing in well-selected periods.
The next moment the hog drove past him. At the same instant
Loveless threw his rope and caught the beast by one hind leg. The
black horse stopped, fore feet planted firmly, and the dust cloud
swept across and hid the scene.
When the dust cleared away, the hog was lying across the road,
blowing comfortably, with the rope leading from his hind leg to
the horn of Loveless' saddle. Loveless laughed.
"There's the first one for you," he said. "And my, can't he run!"
Gobbet, however, was indignant. "It's no use," he complained. "To
bring an object that way straight into the lens is against the
first principles of cinematography. It's no use, I tell you."
Means sat half slumped in his saddle, with his reeking horse
panting heavily.
"Well, well, well," he finally drawled. "And didn't Mr. Pig come
a-bending across that prairie? He most certainly come a-bending."
The porters gathered around and looked long at the beast; some of
them spoke a few words in low tones, and the others nodded their
heads and smiled.
Sometimes a wart-hog will act nasty, and his lower tusks are
sharp as razors; but when this one was released he walked out of
the circle of grinning natives, slowly, quietly, and apparently
thoroughly disgusted.
At Sewell's farm there is a pan of water made by a dam across an
almost waterless brook, and alongside of this pan we pitched our
camp. When the sun set, the high wind rose again, whirling up the
dust in heavy clouds and sending the sparks from the fire
scurrying over the ground. But the Kedong Valley wind is more or
less a phenomenon of the country. You can count upon it
absolutely for every one of its disagreeable qualities. I think
the citizens of Africa are a little proud of it.
There was now a fair chance that on our way into the Rift Valley
we should flush one or another of the larger animals.
Preparations for such a contingency were accordingly made before
starting from Sewell's farm. Canteens and iron drums were filled
with water, because the next camp would be a dry one. The
cinematograph, cameras, and all the extra boxes were loaded with
films the evening before, and the four special camera porters
were given strict orders to keep well up with the advance of the
safari. The lion-taming outfit--the tongs, muzzles, chains, and
collars--was stowed on the first wagon, on top of the load, where
it could be got at readily in case of need. The Colonel rode
ahead, with the two cowboys close behind, all three ropers
mounted on their best horses--the Colonel on "the paint,"
Loveless on his black, and Means on the big-boned bay. Every
member of the party was especially cautioned to keep a sharp
lookout on both sides of the road.
Just as the day before, the morning came hot and still, and for
hour after hour the straggling safari crawled slowly over the
long waves of the undulating veldt. The road was a wagon track
always vanishing in front toward the head of the valley. The land
lay silent beneath the glaring sunlight.
We outspanned at noon for an hour. Over the country here grew
small, scattered thorn trees, thick with thorns but with scarcely
any leaves, so that the shade beneath them was thin and could
shelter no more than one horse. The water in the canteens, cold
at the start, had become warm now.
When we mounted again, the sweat had dried on the horses, and the
boots felt stiff on our feet. The line of the road still
stretched away its interminable length until it disappeared in
the distance.
And then, as we crawled sleepily ahead over the rises, the
Colonel was the first to notice the lion spoor in the dust.
With sudden animation the safari awoke from the lethargy of the
hot, monotonous march. The spoor was judged to be at least four
hours old, so there was no use putting the dogs on it. Then
presently it disappeared. On the dead grass of the bordering
veldt there was nothing to show which way the lion had gone. But
there was a chance--a small one, yet still a chance--that the
beast was lying up near by in the shade of a thorn tree. So all
the horsemen spread out over the veldt to obtain a wider scope of
vision, and for mile after mile the company moved forward,
sweeping the immediate country.
Proceeding in this manner through the afternoon, we eventually
crested a slightly higher rise and looked down into a shallow
valley that was greener than the rest of the veldt. A few
full-sized trees were growing in the bottom, and there were a
number of outcroppings of rock. Large herds of antelope were
grazing there.
The Colonel called a halt.
"There is no lion anywhere hereabouts," he said, "because the
game are grazing peacefully. But there is a bunch of eland
yonder. We might as well round them up while the light lasts."
The plan of operation was quickly made. The cameras were
stationed about a mile to the southeast, partly concealed by the
bole of a tree, and the bunch of eland were skillfully rounded up
and a good specimen was singled out.
Everything was working to perfection. The three horsemen drove
the eland toward the cameras--not directly at them, but a little
to one side, at an angle, as Kearton wanted it done. At the
proper moment Loveless roped the animal by the forelegs and neck,
and threw it down. Loveless jumped from his horse and was running
forward to tie the prize when something--the smell of the strange
beast, perhaps--started the black horse bucking. With the rope
made fast to the saddle and the eland acting as a pivot, the
black went careering round and round. Both the Colonel and Means
tried to rope him, and missed, and finally Loveless, on foot,
caught him by the dangling reins.
Of course such a thing might have been readily foreseen, but
somehow it came as a surprise and opened up grave possibilities.
That night in camp at "Rugged Rocks" we were gathered about the
cook s fire for the warmth it gave, when the Colonel spoke of the
affair.
"Everything was going great till that horse started bucking," the
Colonel remarked. "We've got to teach our horses not to mind the
smell of these strange animals out here. We've got to be able to
depend absolutely on our horses. Of course that eland wasn't
dangerous. But when we tackle something else and a horse acts
that way, it might be bad."
But Gobbet said it was good action, anyway, and would look fine
when thrown on the screen.
March 8 was a day of disappointments. Between sunrise and sunset
we traveled fifteen miles to the Wangai River and hunted in turn
a pair of lions, a cheetah, and a rhinoceros--and lost them all.
Two circumstances were held accountable: one was the necessity of
getting the horses to water, and the other was the fact that it
was just a bad luck day all through.
We came upon the lions early in the morning, close to the base of
the southern volcano. This particular pair of lions must have
been shot over at one time or another, for they did not wait to
satisfy any curiosity as to our intentions, but fled at once for
the safety of the mountain. Although we gave chase immediately,
their lead was so great and the distance to the mountains so
short, that they were soon lost to us in the gullies and crevices
of the foothills.
It was while we were trying to pick up the lost trail of the
lions that we flushed a cheetah out of one of the dongas.[2] It
broke away along the foothills, and finally stopped at bay in a
district where the going was so bad for the horses that we had to
give up the attempt.
[2] Donga.--a gully.
With the rhinoceros we had scarcely any chance whatsoever. The
Colonel, who was scouting the country to the northward of the
line of march, caught a glimpse of the beast in the adjacent
valley. By the time he had come back to get us and we had ridden
in pursuit, the rhino had disappeared.
We found his trail leading still farther to the northward, and
dismounted and looked down at it in silence. No comments were
made. No comments were necessary. Every one knew that for lack of
water the horses were too done up to follow.
Means had dismounted a little to one side of the group, and for a
while he stood there with his arms resting on his saddle, gazing
back over the way we had come. Presently he remarked to the world
at large: Excitement has certainly been runnin' high all day. We
mounted then; and, instead of hunting the rhino farther, we rode
the jaded horses slowly into camp and put a proper finish to a
bad luck day by holding a consultation.
The Wangai River is no river at all; merely a small spring in the
shadow of the range that crosses the head of the valley. But the
spring could supply sufficient water for all our needs. Also, the
problem of transportation demanded that Ulyate should return to
Kijabe and bring up another wagon with supplies before the
journey over the Mau into the Sotik could be undertaken. Then,
too, here in the Rift Valley we had seen both lion and rhino, and
there was always the chance of finding them again. 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. The
plan consisted of a series of drives; one in a northeasterly, one
in an easterly, and one in a southeasterly direction. By this
means we would cover in turn all the territory at the head of the
valley.
The Colonel was anxious to try again for the rhino he had seen on
the march the day before, and for this reason the drive to the
northeast was inaugurated first. Every member of the expedition
took part in these drives. The Colonel and the writer at one end,
and the two cowboys at the other, occupied the extreme positions.
Between the right and left wings stretched a long line of
porters, under the command of two escaris, and with Kearton and
Gobbet in the center with the cameras. The dogs on leash and the
saises carrying water for the horses brought up the rear. When
finally formed, the line of the drive extended approximately five
miles, and the cameras and the dogs were so placed that they
could be brought to either end of the line with the utmost
despatch. Two shots fired in quick succession would be the signal
to gather.
That first day's drive brought little success. To begin with, we
were late in starting, so that the sun had already risen before
we moved out of camp; and besides, the porters were new at that
kind of work and had to be halted and reformed many times before
they understood what was wanted.
The land across which we were driving lay at the very edge of the
valley, and was consequently somewhat broken into small hills and
hollows. By the time we came to the old rhino trail, the day was
well advanced. But no fresh tracks were to be found up and down
the entire length of the hollow, nor was anything to be seen of
the beast from the next hill to the northward, which we climbed
to search the country ahead. There was only a large herd of
hartebeests grazing on the plains below.
The Colonel retreated halfway down the hill and fired two shots
from his revolver. Somewhere beyond our range of vision we heard
the two shots repeated, and at the end of a little more than half
an hour all the members of the drive were gathered on the
hillside below the crest.
Then the Colonel explained the reason for his signal. The rhino
was not there. We might still find him, and we might not. The
chances were now that we should not. He had probably left the
country for good and was already miles away. In the meanwhile a
good opportunity offered for rounding up the herd of hartebeests
in the plain below and driving them up the hillside to the
cameras.
On top of the hill was a small clearing, the edges of which were
fringed with scrub. While the Colonel and the cowboys maneuvered
to circle the herd, Kearton placed the cameras in the clearing,
with the northern line of scrub as a background for the intended
picture.
For a long time there was silence. Then suddenly the scrub sprang
into life, and the next instant the herd dashed into the clearing
in a cloud of dust that was pierced by a hundred startled eyes
and tossing horns. At the sight of the cameras the herd broke and
scattered in every direction; but the horsemen, pressing them
close, roped one in the open, and held him to have his picture
taken, and then let him go.
On the second drive, over the lowlands to the east, the porters
worked better; but, although we covered a far greater territory,
the total result was the roping and photographing of a serval-cat
that we flushed on the way back to camp.
The third drive carried us well out toward the southern volcano
where we had seen the lions on the march from Rugged Rocks, but
this time there was no trace of them anywhere in the land. Means,
however, found a cheetah, and the two faint reports of his signal
brought us together on the run.
We came upon Means seated on his horse in a bit of the veldt that
was covered all over with tufts of rank grass, so that it looked
like a swamp that had been dry for ages. Near by ran a small,
shallow donga.
When the rest of us rode up to him, he merely pointed at one of
the tufts of grass behind which the cheetah lay crouched.
There followed a brief delay, while a plan of maneuver was made
and expounded, while the tripods were set up, the cameras screwed
on, and the ropers moved out to their appointed places.
Then all at once the cheetah started, and, instead of breaking
away, as we had calculated he would, he doubled on his tracks and
made for the shelter of the donga. It was a quick, sharp
race--and the cheetah won. He hid in the scrub at the bottom of
the ditch. The native porters collected there and complacently
regarded the scene, and the members of the drive ranged
themselves on either bank and offered innumerable suggestions as
to what had better be done next.
But in the midst of it all the Colonel put an emphatic end to the
discussion. He rode into the donga with his rope swinging free,
and when the cheetah failed to spring at him, he dropped the
noose over the animal's head and dragged him out on to the open
veldt, where his picture could be properly taken.
The black porters looking on commenced speaking in low tones in
their native tongue, and nodded and grinned at each other as they
had done before. But this time Mac was among them. Mac was
Kearton's tent-boy. He originally came from Somaliland and spoke
English. He was called upon to explain what the porters said.
"Please," he began. "They are very bad men, these people, but
don't be sorry. They say--they say that, of course, the white
gentlemen are able to do what they want to do, but just the same
they are all crazy."
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. The question now arose
as to whether it would be best to remain where we were a few days
longer to gain more experience, or to trek at once over the Mau,
with a chance at giraffe on the way, and so on into the Sotik
country, with its alluring promises of both rhino and lion.
By this time we had hunted the Rift Valley thoroughly. During the
seven days since we had left Kijabe, the expedition had roped and
photographed a cheetah, a serval-cat, a hartebeest, an eland, and
a wart-hog. Although we had been given no opportunity yet to find
out how we were going to hold a rhino or what we would do when
the lion charged, still, in addition to our success with the
lesser animals, we had acquired something else of value. All the
members of the expedition had learned to work well together--in
all the usual emergencies each man knew what was expected of him
and could likewise make a ready guess as to what the others
intended doing. Thus, in spite of the fact that on an expedition
of this kind it is the unexpected that always happens, our
experience only added to our confidence that when we eventually
encountered one of the larger beasts we should get him.
The consultation ended with the unanimous decision to start for
the Sotik at dawn.
In the October number Mr. Scull will relate the; adventures of
the Buffalo Jones African Expedition in Lassoing Giraffe and
Rhinoceros.
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VOL. XXIII September 1910 NO. 3