A stream bed
contained an occasional water hole. Tall aloes were ablaze with red
flowers. The country looked arid, the air felt dry, the atmosphere was
so clear that a day's journey seemed--usually--but the matter of a few
hours. Only rarely did we enjoy a few moments of open travel. Most of
the time the thorns caught at us. In the mountain passes were sometimes
broad trails of game or of the Masai cattle. The country was harsh and
dry and beautiful with the grays and dull greens of arid-land brush, or
with the soft atmospheric tints of arid-land distances. Game was fairly
common, but rather difficult to find. There were many buffalo, a very
few zebra, leopards, hyenas, plenty of impalla, some sing-sing, a few
eland, abundant wart-hog, Thompson's gazelle, and duiker. We never
lacked for meat when we dared shoot it, but we were after nobler game.
The sheep given us by Naiokotuku followed along under charge of the
syces.
When we should run quite out of meat, we intended to eat them. We
delayed too long, however. One evening the fool boy tied them to a thorn
bush; one of them pulled back, the thorns bit, and both broke loose and
departed into the darkness. Of course everybody pursued, but we could
not recapture them. Ten minutes later the hyenas broke into the most
unholy laughter. We could not blame them; the joke was certainly on us.
In passing, the cachinnations of the laughing hyena are rather a series
of high-voiced self-conscious titters than laughter.
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