As usual we built a boma for the sheep, and George and I had our tent pitched, but El Hakim preferred to sleep in the open, so his bed was placed a yard or so away from our tent. After we had eaten we retired to rest, posting a sentry a few yards away. At about 2 a.m. George and I were aroused from sleep, and considerably startled, by a yell from El Hakim, followed by a rushing sound as the sheep broke down their boma and stampeded, amid the excited shouts of the awakened men. Rushing out of our tent, we saw El Hakim, rifle in hand, peering into the darkness on the left, the tails of his shirt, his only garment, fluttering in the breeze. It appeared that he was peacefully sleeping and doubtless dreaming of home and beauty, or maybe of the two boxes of provisions we had left at M’thara, when an agonized whisper from the sentry smote upon his ear. He awoke instantly, and opening his eyes ... gazed full into the face of a full-grown lion which was standing by the side of his bed critically examining him, probably from a gastronomical point of view. El Hakim, with a rapidity born of long experience, rolled out of bed on the opposite side and groped for his rifle, at the same time uttering the startled cry which had aroused the camp. When George and I appeared, the lion had already fled, and we found El Hakim bemoaning his luck at not getting a shot, instead of being profoundly grateful that the lion had not taken him with him when he departed. It took the men a couple of hours to get the startled sheep together again. On examining the lion’s spoor, we found that it had walked right through the camp, having apparently carefully threaded its way among the recumbent bodies of the sleeping porters. On the next march the sheep showed signs of fatigue, so we camped early. We sent a couple of men on to M’thara to report on the attitude of the natives, and also to come back and meet us with the two provision boxes. On the following day we once more negotiated the “cinder-heap,” and just before sundown reached the “Green Camp,” after a rather forced march. Ramathani surprised a baby water-buck asleep in the grass, and after a smart chase ran it down and captured it. He proudly brought it to El Hakim, who determined to make an effort to rear it. He therefore extemporized a feeding-bottle from a tumbler and a piece of rubber tubing from his surgical case, while the ink-filler of his fountain pen provided both a piece of glass tube and a teat. The stupid little beast did not appreciate his well-meant efforts, however, and absolutely refused to suck. It was eventually provided with a meal by the combined efforts of the three of us. I held it still, George forced its mouth open, while El Hakim poured the milk drop by drop down its throat with a teaspoon, though during the operation it did not seem at all grateful for the care so lavishly bestowed upon it.