In the mean time the men were busy gorging the elephant meat. A little M’kamba boy named M’waniki composed a song, which was sung with great success by a lady named Kinyala, who, with many others, had on the previous day joined their fortunes to those of our porters, in many cases deserting their husbands and homes in M’thara that they might follow the safari to Nairobi, which, to these poor creatures, was a vast and distant city of a splendour beyond their wildest dreams. Jumbi had strict orders not to allow any women in camp, but in spite of our frequent “drives” some of them managed to conceal themselves and escaped the general clearance. Kinyala attached herself to the modest and respectable Ramathani, and as she possessed some personal charms—to the mind of a native—that individual made no very strenuous objections. Well, Kinyala sang the song I have already spoken of, and it “caught on” tremendously; and, as a consequence, it was dinned into our ears day and night. It ran thus:— SONG OF KINYALA. (_Solo_) “Wasungu kwenda wapi? (_Omnes_) Kwenda kwa Rendili. (_Solo_) Kwani kwenda kwa Rendili? (_Omnes_) Kwa sababu ya n’gamia. Wasungu wa’ntaka n’gamia; Wasungu wa’ntaka kondo ya mafuta; Huko kwa Rendili n’yama tele-tele.” TRANSLATION. (_Solo_) “Where are the white men going? (_Omnes_) They are going to the place of the Rendili. (_Solo_) Why do they go to the place of the Rendili? (_Omnes_) Because of the camels. The white men want camels; The white men want fat-tailed sheep; There in the place of the Rendili is very much meat.” The above is a specimen, with a somewhat free translation, of the half song, half recitative, so dear to the native heart. It is generally impromptu, and contains at times a certain dry humour and caustic comment on current events that is quite unexpected. Thinking that this was a good opportunity of making another trial of baked elephant’s foot, I caused a large hole to be dug in the centre of the camp, and a party of men were sent into the forest to gather sufficient fuel. When the fuel arrived, an immense fire was kindled in the hole. All day long it burnt, and in the evening we were rewarded by the sight of a glowing pit filled to the brim with red-hot ashes. With much trouble (the foot weighed nearly forty pounds, and the furnace was very hot) we placed the bulky tit-bit in the ashes, and then, building a large bonfire over it, we considered that we had done our part of the business, and hopefully awaited developments.