I had a splendid time hunting with these people, and nearly every day, towards evening, I went out to shoot food for them, the country being like a large zoo, simply full of every kind of African game you can think of, including huge herds of zebra, giraffes, elephants, lions, hartebeest, eland, waterbuck, and occasional herds of buffalo—enough, in fact, to delight the heart of the most enthusiastic hunter. I shot several elephants, besides innumerable smaller game, and two lions—which animals the Wanderobo do not kill, since, as they cannot eat the meat, they do not consider them worth the trouble of killing. During our hunting together they killed some elephants, and it was agreed that when an elephant was killed, they should take one tusk and I the other, and I eventually used to get both by trading. One of their methods of catching elephants and other animals was by the use of pits, which were dug wedge-shaped, so that when the animal fell in, it could not turn round or move, and therefore had no chance of getting out again; while, in some cases, sharp stakes were placed, point upward, at the bottom, with the object of impaling any animal that should fall in. These pits were so cleverly concealed that one had to be very careful not to fall into them oneself: the mouth being generally covered with sticks laid crosswise, with dry grass on the top. They had quite a lot of these pits, and caught a good deal of game by means of them. While out hunting one day, I heard shots fired at a distance, and thinking it might be some white men, I sent some natives to find out, and gave them a note to carry to the strangers. They came back saying that they had seen two white men, and given them the note. As there was no answer, my own idea was that my messengers had got close up to the strangers, and then become afraid—possibly at the men themselves, but most likely on account of the note, which they regarded as some kind of fetish. I found out later that the strangers were two Germans, a Dr. Kolb and a Lieutenant, who were out hunting. Dr. Kolb was afterwards killed by a rhinoceros, and his grave, right away on the Guasa Nyero, is marked by huge heaps of stones. I passed it on my trip to Abyssinia, at a later period of my travels. I stayed some months hunting with the Wanderobo, and so fascinating was the wild, free life, that I could scarcely tear myself away from it; while my followers, who shared the same feeling, had become so friendly with the Wanderobo that some of them had fallen into the habit of eating meat, a thing which they had never done before. This caused a lot of chaff in the camp, and some of their comrades began to call them Wanderobo, which is a term of contempt among the Kikuyu, as the word means a man without anything, a wanderer without any possessions—which fairly describes the tribe in question.