Soon after sunset two grand old lions commenced calling to one another, and I could hear them gradually approaching across the plain. They met about a mile from my camp, and after a round of hearty greetings, settled down into silence. As the wind was in their direction, I ordered all my boys up close to my tent and made two large fires. They still remained silent, so I knew that they were near; but after waiting some time I concluded that they did not mean business, and turned in. I had only just crept inside my mosquito-curtain when the sentry called out to me that they were in camp. I scrambled out, but was just too late! They had calmly strolled past in the full light of the fire, and I saw a tail disappear round the corner of a bush. Snatching up a blazing log, we dashed out, but, of course, never saw them, as there was too much bush; however, they were not in a hurry, and an occasional sniff showed that they were still inspecting, but they would not show in the firelight again, and, whenever I went out, sneaked off, till, getting tired of the game, they strolled away grumbling across the plain, and treated me to a farewell roar that will long linger in my ears as Savage Africa’s farewell! For on the morrow my troubles ended. We were plodding wearily along, wondering how to tide over the next four days, which I had estimated as the time necessary to reach the Sobat, when I saw in the far distance a curved pole swaying in the wind. For a long time it puzzled me; then I realized that it must be the mast of a boat, but dared not believe it, though certain that no palm-stem could swing to that angle. Presently I saw figures moving to and fro, and then one in white cloth, and soon we had evidently been noticed. A short council of war took place, and then an unmistakable Soudanese soldier came out to meet me, carefully inserting a cartridge in his rifle as he approached. Throwing my rifle on to my left shoulder, with a conciliatory and pacific smile I advanced with outstretched hand, and evidently convinced him that I was at least harmless, for with a 3 ft. 6 grin he drew his cartridge and shook the proffered hand with vigour. I learned that Captain Dunn, R.A.M.C., was up the Zaraf for a few days’ shooting, and that he was expected back in camp in a few minutes.