ch morning we marched ten or twelve miles and then went into camp near
some little stream. In the afternoon we hunted for lions, beating out
swamps, scouting every bit of cover and combing the tall grass for hours
at a time. Hartebeest, topi, zebra, eland, oribi, reedbuck, and small
grass antelope were upon all sides and at all times.

The herds of zebra and hartebeest literally numbered thousands, but,
except as the latter were occasionally required for food for the
porters, we seldom tried to shoot them. Every Boer settler we saw was
interviewed and every promising lion clue was followed to the bitter
end, but without result. Sometimes we remained in one camp a day or more
in order to search the lion retreats more thoroughly, but never a
black-maned lion was routed from his lair. A few weeks later, when the
dry grass had been burned to make way for new grass, as is done each
year, the chances would be greatly improved, and we hoped for better
luck when we retraced our steps from Elgon in December. Before that time
it would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack to find a lion in
the tall grass, and a good deal more dangerous if we did find one. There
were lots of them there, but they were taking excellent care of
themselves. In July, three months previous, Mr. McMillan, Mr. Selous,
and Mr. Williams were in this same district after black-maned lions.
They heard them every night, but saw only one in several weeks. This
one, however, made a distinct impression. Williams saw it one day and
wounded it at two hundred yards. The lion charged and could not be
stopped by Williams' bullets. It was only after it had leaped on the
hunter and frightfully mauled him that the lion succumbed to its wounds.
And it was only after months of suffering that Williams finally
recovered from the mauling.

We felt that if Frederick Selous, the world's greatest big game hunter,
could not find the lion, then our chances were somewhat slim.

[Drawing: _Lion Hunting in Tall Grass_]

There had been few parties in this district since McMillan's party left.
Captain Ashton came in two months before us, and we met him on his way
out. With him was Captain Black, a professional elephant hunter, who,
three years before, on the Aberdare, had had a bad experience with an
elephant. It was a cow that he had wounded but failed to kill. She
charged him and knocked him down in a pile of very thick and matted
brush. Three times she trampled him under h