We were never ill
for a moment; although the thermometer was seldom below 88
degrees during the day, the country was healthy, as it was
intensely dry, and therefore free from malaria: at night the
thermometer averaged 70 degrees, which was a delightful
temperature for those who exist in the open air.
As our camp was full of meat, either dried or in the process of
drying in festoons upon the trees, we had been a great attraction
to the beasts of prey, who constantly prowled around our thorn
fence during the night. One night in particular a lion attempted
to enter, but had been repulsed by the Tokrooris, who pelted him
with firebrands; my people woke me up and begged me to shoot him,
but, as it was perfectly impossible to fire correctly through the
hedge of thorns, I refused to be disturbed, but I promised to
hunt for him on the following day. Throughout the entire night
the lion prowled around the camp, growling and uttering his
peculiar guttural sigh. Not one of my people slept, as they
declared he would bound into the camp and take somebody, unless
they kept up the watch-fires and drove him away with brands. The
next day, before sunrise, I called Hassan and Hadji Ali, whom I
lectured severely upon their cowardice on a former occasion, and
I received their promise to follow me to death.
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