ntire fitness. And beneath the red blanket turbans
the half-wild savage faces peered out.

Now Mahomet approached. Mahomet was my personal boy. He was a Somali
from the Northwest coast, dusky brown, with the regular clear-cut
features of a Greek marble god. His dress was of neat khaki, and he
looked down on savages; but, also, as with all the dark-skinned races,
up to his white master. Mahomet was with me during all my African stay,
and tested out nobly. As yet, of course, I did not know him.

"Chakula taiari," said he.

That is Swahili. It means literally "food is ready." After one has
hunted in Africa for a few months, it means also "paradise is opened,"
"grief is at an end," "joy and thanksgiving are now in order," and
similar affairs. Those two words are never forgotten, and the veriest
beginner in Swahili can recognize them without the slightest effort.

We followed Mahomet. Somehow, without orders, in all this confusion, the
personal staff had been quietly and efficiently busy. Drawn a little to
one side stood a table with four chairs. The table was covered with a
white cloth, and was set with a beautiful white enamel service. We
took our places. Behind each chair straight as a ramrod stood a neat
khaki-clad boy. They brought us food, and presented it properly on the
left side, waiting like well-trained butlers. We might have been in
a London restaurant. As three of us were Americans, we felt a trifle
dazed. The porters, having finished the distribution of their loads,
squatted on their heels and watched us respectfully.

And then, not two hundred yards away, four ostriches paced slowly across
the track, paying not the slightest attention to us-our first real
wild ostriches, scornful of oranges, careless of tourists, and rightful
guardians of their own snowy plumes. The passage of these four solemn
birds seemed somehow to lend this strange open-air meal an exotic
flavour. We were indeed in Africa; and the ostriches helped us to
realize it.

We finished breakfast and arose from our chairs. Instantly a half dozen
men sprang forward. Before our amazed eyes the table service, the chairs
and the table itself disappeared into neat packages. M'ganga arose to
his feet.

"Bandika!" he cried.

The askaris rushed here and there actively.

"Bandika! bandika! bandika!" they cried repeatedly.

The men sprang into activity. A struggle heaved the varicoloured
multitude-and, lo! each man stood upright, his load balance