mind to try my luck on
the banks of the Sabaki. Unfortunately, I possessed no heavy rifle,
which is almost a necessity for hippo shooting, but it occurred to me
to supply the deficiency by manufacturing a few cartridges for my
smoothbore. In these I had double charges of powder and a hardened
bullet made of lead mixed with about an eighth part of tin. I well
remember the anxiety with which I fired the first round of my home-made
ammunition. As I more than half expected that the barrel would burst, I
lashed the gun in the fork of a tree, tied a piece of string a hundred
feet long to the trigger, and then--taking shelter behind a friendly
stump--pulled off. To my great satisfaction the barrel stood the test
perfectly. More than that, on trying the penetrative effect of my
bullets, I found that they would smash through a steel plate an eighth
of an inch thick at thirty yards' range. This was quite good enough for
my purpose, and gave me great confidence in the weapon. All the same, I
had a very narrow escape one day while manufacturing some of this
ammunition. My plan was to remove the shot from the cartridge, put in
the additional powder, and ram this well in before replacing the wad
and putting in the bullet. I had clamped my refilling machine to my
rough-hewn table, and was stamping the double charge of powder well
down into the cartridge, when suddenly, for some unknown reason, the
whole charge exploded right into my face. Everything became pitch dark
to me, and I groped my way about the little hut in agony of mind as
well as of body, for I thought I had been blinded. I am thankful to
say, however, that gleams of light soon began to return to my eyes, and
in a few hours' time I was almost all right again and able to go on
with my cartridge making.

All my preparations having been made, I set out for the Sabaki, taking
with me my Indian gun-bearer Mahina, my cook Mabruki, a bhisti
(water-carrier), and a couple of natives to carry our odds and ends. On
these occasions I usually took no tent, but bivouacked in the open. We
took some bread and a few tinned provisions with us, but I could always
depend upon getting a paa, guinea-fowl, partridge or rock-rabbit for
the larder on the march. These rock-rabbits are more like big rats than
rabbits, and are found in great numbers among the rocks along the banks
of the rivers. They are not at all bad eating, but the Swahili will not
touch them. They call them tupu (shameless, naked