We were in no hurry, so we did not try to get our safari under way
before eight o'clock. It consisted of twenty-nine porters, the
gunbearers, three personal boys, three syces, and the cook. Of this lot
some few stand out from the rest, and deserve particular attention.
Of course I had my veterans, Memba Sasa and Mohammed. There was also
Kongoni, gunbearer, elsewhere described. The third gunbearer was
Marrouki, a Wakamba. He was the personal gunbearer of a Mr. Twigg, who
very courteously loaned him for this trip as possessing some knowledge
of the country. He was a small person, with stripes about his eyes;
dressed in a Scotch highland cap, khaki breeches, and a shooting coat
miles too big for him. His soul was earnest, his courage great, his
training good, his intelligence none too brilliant. Timothy, our cook,
was pure Swahili. He was a thin, elderly individual, with a wrinkled
brow of care. This represented a conscientious soul. He tried hard to
please, but he never could quite forget that he had cooked for the
Governor's safari. His air was always one of silent disapproval of our
modest outfit. So well did he do, however, often under trying
circumstances, that at the close of the expedition Billy presented him
with a very fancy knife. To her vast astonishment he burst into violent
sobs.
"Why, what is it?" she asked.
"Oh, memsahib," he wailed, "I wanted a watch!"
As personal boy Billy had a Masai named Geyeye.
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