This rule of careful stalking till near enough to make the result of the shot certain holds good with all big game, though there are certain other factors to be considered, such as the angle to your line of sight at which the beast aimed at is standing, and also light, etc. One can go into any club or hotel billiard-room in those parts of Africa where big game is to be found, and listen to conversation on, say, lion-shooting. The chances are that nine out of ten men present have “had a shot at a lion;” but only a very small percentage have actually bagged their beast. In these days of small-bore, high-power rifles, a man can shoot at a stray lion at six hundred yards, and he may be lucky enough to wound it or even, perhaps, kill it; but surely that is not “playing the game.” On the afternoon of the day after the Somalis left for the Waso Nyiro, N’Dominuki came into camp with a chief named “Karama,” who wished to make “muma,” or blood-brotherhood, with me, to which I consented. It was rather a long affair. They brought a sheep with them, which was killed, and the liver cut out and toasted. Karama and I then squatted on the ground facing each other, while our men on the one side, and Karama’s friends on the other, formed a circle round us. A spear and a rifle were then crossed over our heads, and N’Dominuki, as master of the ceremonies, then took a knife and sharpened it alternately on the spear-blade and the gun-barrel, reciting the oath of “muma” meanwhile. It was a long, rambling kind of oath, amounting in fact to an offensive and defensive alliance, with divers pains and penalties attached, which came into operation in the event of either or both the blood-brothers breaking the said oath. At the conclusion of N’Dominuki’s speech the assembled spectators shouted the words “Orioi muma” three times. Three incisions were then made in my chest, just deep enough to allow the blood to flow, and a similar operation was performed on Karama. N’Dominuki then ordered the toasted sheep’s liver to be brought, which, on its arrival, was cut into small pieces, and a piece handed to both Karama and me. A further recitation of the penalties of breaking the oath was made by N’Dominuki, and again the spectators shouted “Orioi muma.” Karama and I then dipped our pieces of liver in our own blood, and amid breathless silence exchanged pieces and devoured them. This was repeated three times to the accompaniment of renewed shouts from the spectators. The remainder of the liver was then handed round to the witnesses, who ate it, and the ceremony was concluded, it only remaining for me to make my new blood-brother a present. The next morning our final preparations were completed, and N’Dominuki having come over early, we turned all the animals we were leaving behind over to him. He bade us adieu, with a wish that we might return safe and sound, and, what is more, he sincerely meant what he said.