As we came down a long slope Mary saw a big kongoni about six hundred yards away, standing tall and yellow at the lower crest of the slope. No one had seen it until she pointed it out and then everyone saw it at once. We stopped the car and she and Charo got out to make their stalk. The kongoni was feeding away from them and the wind would not carry their scent to the animal as it was blowing high across the slope. There were no bad animals around here and we stayed back with the vehicle so we would not hamper their approach.
We watched Charo leading from one piece of cover to another and Mary following him, crouched down as he was. The kongoni was out of sight now but we watched Charo freeze and Mary come up beside him and raise her rifle. Then there was the sound of the shot and the heavy plunk of the bullet and Charo ran forward out of sight with Mary following him.
Mthuka drove the car cross country through the bracken and the flowers until we came to Mary and Charo and the dead kongoni. The kongoni or hartebeest is not a handsome animal in life nor in death but this was an old male, very fat and in perfect condition, and his long, sad face, his glazed eyes, and his cut throat did not make him unattractive to the meat eaters. The Masai women were very excited and very impressed by Miss Mary and kept touching her in wonderment and unbelief.
“I saw him first,” Mary said. “The first time I ever saw anything first. I saw him before you did. Mthuka and you were in front. I saw him before Ngui and Mwengi and Charo.”
“You saw him before Arap Meina,” I said.
“He doesn’t count because he was looking at the Masai women. Charo and I stalked him by ourselves and when he looked back toward us I shot him exactly where I wanted to.”
“Low down in the left shoulder and hit the heart.”
“That’s where I shot for.”
“Piga mzuri,” Charo said. “Mzuri mzuri sana.”
“We’ll put him in the back. The women can ride up front.”
“He isn’t handsome,” Mary said, “but I’d rather shoot something that isn’t beautiful for meat.”
“He’s wonderful and you’re wonderful.”
“Well, we needed meat and I saw the best kind of meat we could get and fat and the biggest next to eland and I saw him myself and just Charo and I stalked him and I shot him myself. Now, will you love me and not go off alone by yourself in your head?”
“You ride up in front now. We won’t be shooting anymore.”
“Can I have some of my beer? I’m thirsty from stalking.”
“You can have all of your beer.”
“No. You take some too to celebrate me seeing him first and we being friends again.”
We had a pleasant supper and went to bed early. I had bad dreams in the night and I was awake and dressed before Mwindi brought the tea.
That afternoon we went out on a ride around the country and found by their tracks that the buffalo were back in the forest by the swamp. They had come in during the morning and the trail was wide and deep cut like a cattle trail but cold now and the dung beetles were working rolling up the balls of buffalo sign. The buffs had headed into the forest where the glades and the openings were full of fresh new heavy grass.
I had always liked to see the dung beetles work and since I had learned that they were the sacred scarabs of Egypt, in a slightly modified form, I thought we might find some place for them in the religion. Now they were working very hard and it was getting late for the dung of that day. Watching them I thought of the words for a dung beetle hymn.
Ngui and Mthuka were watching me because they knew I was in a moment of profound thought. Ngui went for Miss Mary’s camera in case she should want to take any pictures of the dung beetles, but she did not care to and said, “Papa, when you get tired of watching the dung beetles, do you think we might get on and see something else?”
“Sure, if you are interested, we can find a rhino and there are two lionesses and a lion around.”
“How do you know?”
“Several people heard the lions last night and the rhino crossed the buffalo trail back there.”
“It’s too late for good color.”
“Never mind. Maybe we can just watch them.”
“They’re more inspiring than dung beetles.”
“I’m not seeking inspiration. I’m seeking knowledge.”
“It’s lucky you have such a wide open field.”
“Yes.”
I told Mthuka to try and find the rhino. He had regular habits and now that he was on the move, we knew about where we might find him.
The rhino was not far from where he should have been but, as Miss Mary had said, it was too late to photograph well in color with the speed of film that was then available. He had been to a water hole in gray white clay and in the green of the brush and against the dark black lava rocks, he looked a ghostly white.