the land of footprints-第8部分

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from　a　French　convent；　perhaps；　but　never　from　an　African　savage。　He　did　a　circular　piece　and　a　long　narrow　piece。　They　took　him　three　months　to　finish；　and　then　he　sewed　them　together　to　form　a　skull　cap。　Billy；　entranced　with　the　lacelike　delicacy　of　the　work；　promptly　captured　it；　whereupon　Memba　Sasa　philosophically　started　another。

By　this　time　he　had　identified　himself　with　my　fortunes。　We　had　become　a　firm　whose　business　it　was　to　carry　out　the　affairs　of　a　single　personality…me。　Memba　Sasa；　among　other　things；　undertook　the　dignity。　When　I　walked　through　a　crowd；　Memba　Sasa　zealously　kicked　everybody　out　of　my　royal　path。　When　I　started　to　issue　a　command；　Memba　Sasa　finished　it　and　amplified　it　and　put　a　snapper　on　it。　When　I　came　into　camp；　Memba　Sasa　saw　to　it　personally　that　my　tent　went　up　promptly　and　properly；　although　that　was　really　not　part　of　his　〃cazi〃　at　all。　And　when　somewhere　beyond　my　ken　some　miserable　boy　had　committed　a　crime；　I　never　remained　long　in　ignorance　of　that　fact。

Perhaps　I　happened　to　be　sitting　in　my　folding　chair　idly　smoking　a　pipe　and　reading　a　book。　Across　the　open　places　of　the　camp　would　stride　Memba　Sasa；　very　erect；　very　rigid；　moving　in　short　indignant　jerks；　his　eye　flashing　fire。　Behind　him　would　sneak　a　very　hang…dog　boy。　Memba　Sasa　marched　straight　up　to　me；　faced　right；　and　drew　one　side；　his　silence　sparkling　with　honest　indignation。

〃Just　look　at　THAT！〃　his　attitude　seemed　to　say；　〃Could　you　believe　such　human　depravity　possible？　And　against　OUR　authority？〃

He　always　stood；　quite　rigid；　waiting　for　me　to　speak。

〃Well；　Memba　Sasa？〃　I　would　inquire；　after　I　had　enjoyed　the　show　a　little。

In　a　few　restrained　words　he　put　the　case　before　me；　always　briefly；　always　with　a　scornful　dignity。　This　shenzi　has　done　so…and…so。

We　will　suppose　the　case　fairly　serious。　I　listened　to　the　man's　story；　if　necessary　called　a　few　witnesses；　delivered　judgment。　All　the　while　Memba　Sasa　stood　at　rigid　attention；　fairly　bristling　virtue；　like　the　good　dog　standing　by　at　the　punishment　of　the　bad　dogs。　And　in　his　attitude　was　a　subtle　triumph；　as　one　would　say：　〃You　see！　Fool　with　my　bwana；　will　you！　Just　let　anybody　try　to　get　funny　with　US！〃　Judgment　pronounced…we　have　supposed　the　case　serious；　you　remember…Memba　Sasa　himself　applied　the　lash。　I　think　he　really　enjoyed　that；　but　it　was　a　restrained　joy。　The　whip　descended　deliberately；　without　excitement。

The　man's　devotion　in　unusual　circumstances　was　beyond　praise。　Danger　or　excitement　incite　a　sort　of　loyalty　in　any　good　man；　but　humdrum；　disagreeable　difficulty　is　a　different　matter。

One　day　we　marched　over　a　country　of　thorn…scrub　desert。　Since　two　days　we　had　been　cut　loose　from　water；　and　had　been　depending　on　a　small　amount　carried　in　zinc　drums。　Now　our　only　reasons　for　faring　were　a　conical　hill；　over　the　horizon；　and　the　knowledge　of　a　river　somewhere　beyond。　How　far　beyond；　or　in　what　direction；　we　did　not　know。　We　had　thirty　men　with　us；　a　more　or　less　ragtag　lot；　picked　up　anyhow　in　the　bazaars。　They　were　soft；　ill…disciplined　and　uncertain。　For　five　or　six　hours　they　marched　well　enough。　Then　the　sun　began　to　get　very　hot；　and　some　of　them　began　to　straggle。　They　had；　of　course；　no　intention　of　deserting；　for　their　only　hope　of　surviving　lay　in　staying　with　us；　but　their　loads　had　become　heavy；　and　they　took　too　many　rests。　We　put　a　good　man　behind；　but　without　much　avail。　In　open　country　a　safari　can　be　permitted　to　straggle　over　miles；　for　always　it　can　keep　in　touch　by　sight；　but　in　this　thorn…scrub　desert；　that　looks　all　alike；　a　man　fifty　yards　out　of　sight　is　fifty　yards　lost。　We　would　march　fifteen　or　twenty　minutes；　then　sit　down　to　wait　until　the　rearmost　men　had　straggled　in；　perhaps　a　half　hour　later。　And　we　did　not　dare　move　on　until　the　tale　of　our　thirty　was　complete。　At　this　rate　progress　was　very　slow；　and　as　the　fierce　equatorial　sun　increased　in　strength；　became　always　slower　still。　The　situation　became　alarming。　We　were　quite　out　of　water；　and　we　had　no　idea　where　water　was　to　be　found。　To　complicate　matters；　the　thornbrush　thickened　to　a　jungle。

My　single　companion　and　I　consulted。　It　was　agreed　that　I　was　to　push　on　as　rapidly　as　possible　to　locate　the　water；　while　he　was　to　try　to　hold　the　caravan　together。　Accordingly；　Memba　Sasa　and　I　marched　ahead。　We　tried　to　leave　a　trail　to　follow；　and　we　hoped　fervently　that　our　guess　as　to　the　stream's　course　would　prove　to　be　a　good　one。　At　the　end　of　two　hours　and　a　half　we　found　the　water…a　beautiful　jungle…shaded　stream…and　filled　ourselves　up　therewith。　Our　duty　was　accomplished；　for　we　had　left　a　trail　to　be　followed。　Nevertheless；　I　felt　I　should　like　to　take　back　our　full　canteens　to　relieve　the　worst　cases。　Memba　Sasa　would　not　hear　of　it；　and　even　while　I　was　talking　to　him　seized　the　canteens　and　disappeared。

At　the　end　of　two　hours　more　camp　was　made；　after　a　fashion；　but　still　four　men　had　failed　to　come　in。　We　built　a　smudge　in　the　hope　of　guiding　them；　and　gave　them　up。　If　they　had　followed　our　trail；　they　should　have　been　in　long　ago；　if　they　had　missed　that　trail；　heaven　knows　where　they　were；　or　where　we　should　go　to　find　them。　Dusk　was　falling；　and；　to　tell　the　truth；　we　were　both　very　much　done　up　by　a　long　day　at　115　degrees　in　the　shade　under　an　equatorial　sun。　The　missing　men　would　climb　trees　away　from　the　beasts；　and　we　would　organize　a　search　next　day。　As　we　debated　these　things；　to　us　came　Memba　Sasa。

〃I　want　to　take　'Winchi；'〃　said　he。　〃Winchi〃　is　his　name　for　my　Winchester　405。

〃Why？〃　we　asked。

〃If　I　can　take　Winchi；　I　will　find　the　men；〃　said　he。

This　was　entirely　voluntary　on　his　part。　He；　as　well　as　we；　had　had　a　hard　day；　and　he　had　made　a　double　journey　for　part　of　it。　We　gave　him　Winchi　and　he　departed。　Sometime　after　midnight　he　returned　with　the　missing　men。

Perhaps　a　dozen　times　all　told　he　volunteered　for　these　special　services；　once　in　particular；　after　a　fourteen…hour　day；　he　set　off　at　nine　o'clock　at　night　in　a　soaking　rainstorm；　wandered　until　two　o'clock；　and　returned　unsuccessful；　to　rouse　me　and　report　gravely　that　he　could　not　find　them。　For　these　services　he　neither　received　nor　expected　special　reward。　And　catch　him　doing　anything　outside　his　strict　〃cazi〃　except　for　US。

We　were　always　very　ceremonious　and　dignified　in　our　relations　on　such　occasions。　Memba　Sasa　would　suddenly　appear；　deposit　the　rifle　in　its　place；　and　stand　at　attention。

〃Well；　Memba　Sasa？〃　I　would　inquire。

〃I　have　found　the　men；　they　are　in　camp。〃

Then　I　would　give　him　his　reward。　It　was　either　the　word　〃assanti；〃　or　the　two　words　〃assanti　sana；〃　according　to　the　difficulty　and　importance　of　the　task　accomplished。　They　mean　simply　〃thank　you〃　and　〃thank　you　very　much。〃

Once　or　twice；　after　a　particularly　long　and　difficult　month　or　so；　when　Memba　Sasa　has　been　almost　literally　my　alter　ego；　I　have　called　him　up　for　special　praise。　〃I　am　very　pleased　with　you；　Memba　Sasa；〃　said　I。　〃You　have　done　your　cazi　well。　You　are　a　good　man。〃

He　accepted　this　with　dignity；　without　deprecation；　and　without　the　idiocy　of　spoken　gratitude。　He　agreed　perfectly　with　everything　I　said！　〃Yes〃　was　his　only　comment。　I　liked　it。

On　our　ultimate　success　in　a　difficult　enterprise　Memba　Sasa　set　great　store；　and　his　delight　in　ultimate　success　was　apparently　quite　apart　from　personal　considerations。　We　had　been　hunting　greater　kudu　for　five　weeks　before　we　finally　landed　one。　The　greater　kudu　is；　with　the　bongo；　easily　the　prize　beast　in　East　Africa；　and　very　few　are　shot。　By　a　piece　of　bad　luck；　for　him；　I　had　sent　Memba　Sasa　out　in　a　different　direction　to　look　for　signs　the　afternoon　we　finally　got　one。　The　kill　was　made　just　at　dusk。　C。　and　I；　with　Mavrouki；　built　a　fire　and　stayed；　while　Kongoni　went　to　camp　after　men。　There　he　broke　the　news　to　Memba　Sasa　that　the　great　prize　had　been　captured；　and　he　absent。　Memba　Sasa　was　hugely　delighted；　nor　did　he　in　any　way　show　what　must　have　been　a　great　disappointment　to　him。　After　repeating　the　news　triumphantly　to　every　one　in　camp；　he　came　out　to　where　we　were　waiting；　arrived　quite　out　of　breath；　and　grabbed　me　by　the　hand　in　heartiest　congratulation。

Memba　Sasa　went　in　not　at　all　for　personal　ornamentation；　any　more　than　he　allowed　his　dignity　to　be　broken　by　anything　resembling　emotionalism。　No　tattoo　marks；　no　ear　ornaments；　no　rings　nor　bracelets。　He　never　even　picked　up　an　ostrich　feather　for　his　head。　On　the　latter　he　sometimes　wore　an　old　felt　hat；　sometimes；　more　picturesquely；　an　orange…coloured　fillet。　Khaki　shirt；　khaki　〃shorts；〃　blue　puttees；　besides　his　knife　and　my　own　accoutrements：　that　was　all。　In　town　he　was　all　white　clad；　a　long　fine　linen　robe　reaching　to　his　feet；　and　one　of　the　lacelike　skull　caps　he　was　so　very　skilful　at　making。

That　will　do　for　a　preliminary　sketch。　If　you　follow　these　pages；　you　will　hear　more　of　him；　he　is　worth　it。



VI。　THE　FIRST　GAME　CAMP

In　the　review　of　〃first〃　impressions　with　which　we　are　concerned；　we　must　now　skip　a　week　or　ten　days　to　stop　at　what　is　known　in　our　diaries　as　the　First　Ford　of　the　Guaso　Nyero　River。

These　ten　days　were　not　uneventful。　We　had　crossed　the　wide　and　undulating　pl