t the
kongoni, who has stopped some little distance away and is regarding him
with that quaint, lugubriously funny look. It almost seems to be
laughing at him.

One day I tried to shoot a topi. It was a broiling hot day and the sun
hung dead above and drove its burning javelins into me as I crept along.
For seven hundred yards, on hands and knees, I slowly and painfully made
my way. The grass wore through the knees of my trousers and the sharp
stubbles cut my palms; once a snake darted out of a clump of grass just
as my hand was descending upon it, and lizards frequently shot away
within a yard of my nose. My neck was nearly broken from looking forward
while on my hands and knees, and it was nearly an hour of creeping
progress that I spent while stalking that topi.

When I got within two hundred and fifty yards, and was just ready to
take a careful aim, with an ant-hill as a rest, a kongoni somewhere gave
the alarm, and away went the topi, safe and sound but badly scared. The
kongoni went a little way off and then turned and grinned broadly. I was
momentarily tempted to shoot him, but on second thought I realized that
he had acted nobly from the animal point of view, so I forgave him.

[Drawing: _Outward Bound--Reading Your Thoughts--Concluding your
Intentions Are Hostile_]

The kongoni seems to be gifted with a clairvoyant instinct. He knows
when you don't want to shoot him and when you do. If you start out in
the morning with no hostile intentions toward him he will allow you to
approach to within a short distance. He will be alert and watchful, but
he will show no anxiety. But just suppose for an instant that you change
your mind. Suppose you say to yourself that the porters have had no meat
for several days and that it might be well to shoot a kongoni. The
latter knows what is passing in your mind long before you have made a
single movement to betray your intentions. He begins to edge away, ready
in an instant to go bounding rapidly beyond rifle shot.

I've seen a herd of kongoni standing quite near, watching me with
curious interest, but without fear. Perhaps I was intent upon something
else and hardly noticed them. Suddenly a villainous thought might enter
my head, such as "That big kongoni has enormous horns," and instantly
the herd would prick up their ears, run a few steps, and then turn to
verify their suspicions. Then, if the villainous thought still lurked in
my brain, they would sneeze shrilly and go g