ard, they can change their
spots quite readily. However, we remounted and went to take a look.

Of course there was nothing. So we rode on, rather aimlessly, weaving
in and out of the bushes and open spaces. I think we were all a little
tired from the long day and the excitement, and hence a bit listless.
Suddenly we were fairly shaken out of our saddles by an angry roar just
ahead. Usually a lion growls, low and thunderous, when he wants, to
warn you that you have gone about far enough; but this one was angry all
through at being followed about so much, and he just plain yelled at us.

He crouched near a bush forty yards away, and was switching his tail. I
had heard that this was a sure premonition of an instant charge, but I
had not before realized exactly what "switching the tail" meant. I had
thought of it as a slow sweeping from side to side, after the manner
of the domestic cat. This lion's tail was whirling perpendicularly from
right to left, and from left to right with the speed and energy of a
flail actuated by a particularly instantaneous kind of machinery. I
could see only the outline of the head and this vigorous tail; but I
took instant aim and let drive. The whole affair sank out of sight.

We made a detour around the dead lion without stopping to examine him,
shouting to one of the men to stay and watch the carcass. Billy alone
seemed uninfected with the now prevalent idea that we were likely to
find lions almost anywhere. Her skepticism was justified. We found no
more lions; but another miracle took place for all that. We ran across
the second imbecile gerenuk, and B. collected it! These two were
the only ones we ever got within decent shot of, and they sandwiched
themselves neatly with lions. Truly, it WAS our day.

After a time we gave it up, and went back to measure and photograph our
latest prize. It proved to be a male, maneless, two inches shorter than
that killed by B., and three feet five and one half inches tall at the
shoulder. My bullet had reached the brain just over the left eye.

Now, toward sunset, we headed definitely toward camp. The long shadows
and beautiful lights of evening were falling across the hills far the
other side the Isiola. A little breeze with a touch of coolness breathed
down from distant unseen Kenia. We plodded on through the grass quite
happily, noting the different animals coming out to the cool of the
evening. The line of brush that marked the course of the Isiola