As my two men with the mule had not turned up by the time I had concluded my examination of the giraffe, I went to look for them. They were not on the spot where I left them, neither could I get any answer from them, though I shouted myself hoarse. I therefore made my way back to the small hill I have mentioned and climbed to the summit. From there I got an extended view of the country, but nevertheless I could not see a sign of the men. I shouted, but my voice was lost in space. I had a syren whistle with which I was in the habit of summoning the men; but though I hooted and screamed through it like the cry of a lost tug-boat, nothing resulted. I gazed round the empty landscape with a feeling akin to desperation. The sun was sinking fast, and I stood a very good chance of passing the night ten miles from camp and supper, alone on the hillside with the body of the giraffe. Once more I wailed on the syren whistle, but there was no answer beyond the chirrup of a frightened bird. At length I saw them loafing around about 800 yards away. I redoubled my shouting and whistling, but they did not seem to hear me. As a last resource, I laid down, and, taking aim with the Martini, planked a bullet in the sand within fifty yards of them. Their attention was immediately aroused, and they gazed about trying to locate my direction. Another shot gave them the information they required, and they immediately started to rejoin me. Leaving one man safely ensconced in the branches of a tree as a guard over the giraffe, I returned with the other to camp, which I did not reach till long after night had fallen. On arrival, I despatched half a dozen men, with water and the means of lighting a fire, to guard the dead giraffe from the hyænas, and possibly lions. Barri, I found, had returned to our camp and thrown himself on our mercy. He was informed that he might be perfectly easy in his mind, as we should not give him up to Ismail on any account, for which consideration he was extremely grateful. During the night we were troubled again by lions, who prowled round the camp, doubtless attracted by the sheep. We moved up the river a little further on the following morning, and, camping early, sent the majority of the men to cut up the giraffe. We found the meat horribly tough and tasteless, but we struggled with it somehow. Even the men did not take kindly to it. The marrow bones, which were very large, we first roasted over a fire, and then, breaking them with an iron bar, ate their rich marrows with a teaspoon. It was very well flavoured, and much appreciated.