n my
library, but for some strange reason, it did not seem incongruous that I
should begin my real hunting in a lion and elephant country.

[Drawing: _Getting Ready for Lion Shooting_]

I had all the prowess of a Tartarin, and during the five months that
elapsed before I actually set forth, I went about my daily work with a
mind half dazed with the delicious consciousness that I was soon to
become a lion hunter. I feared that modern methods might have taken away
much of the old-time romance of the sport, but I felt certain that there
was still to be something left in the way of excitement and adventure.

The succeeding pages of this book contain the chronicle of the nine
delightful months that followed my departure from America.

In the middle of August Mr. Stephenson and I arrived in London. Mr.
Akeley had ordered most of our equipment by letter, but there still
remained many things to be done, and for a week or more we were busy
from morning till night.

It is amazing how much stuff is required to outfit a party of four
people for an African shooting expedition of several months' duration.
First in importance come the rifles, then the tents and camp equipment,
then the clothes and boots, then the medical supplies, and finally the
food. Perhaps the food might be put first in importance, but just now,
after a hearty dinner, it seems to be the least important detail.

Many men outfitting for an African campaign among wild animals secure
their outfits in London. It is there, in modest little shops, that one
gets the weapons that are known to sportsmen from one end of the world
to the other--weapons designed expressly for the requirements of African
shooting, and which have long stood the test of hard, practical service.
For two days we haunted these famous gun-makers' shops, and for two days
I made a magnificent attempt to look learnedly at things about which I
knew little.

[Drawing: _Practising in the Museum_]

At last, after many hours of gun shopping, attended by the constant
click of a taxicab meter, I assembled such an imposing arsenal that I
was nervous whenever I thought about it. With such a battery it was a
foregone conclusion that something, or somebody, was likely to get hurt.
I hoped that it would be something, and not somebody.

The old-time "elephant gun" which shot an enormous ball and a staggering
charge of black powder has given way to the modern double-barreled
rifle, with its steel bullet and