But a strange feeling comes over the observer when he remembers that out of all this wealth of animal life the African has never been able to link one single creature permanently to himself. He obtained his cattle and also his goats and sheep from Asia. The camel may be left out of account, for its connection with the human race is lost in the mystery of primitive times. We may say that the fauna of Africa has not given a single species to the group of our domestic animals. It is sad and humiliating to reflect that the men of to-day cannot accomplish what was done in the dim past--granted that it took endless ages in the doing. There were times, as I have said, when I could not get rid of this impression of _tame_ herds of animals. And this was all in a land, and a district, that left one nothing to desire in the way of primitive wildness. What, then, must it have been in early days when man was not yet waylaying the beasts of the wilderness, or at least had not yet employed the poisoned dart and spear, the pitfall and the snare? It must have been a veritable Garden of Eden. But here, far and wide, there is nothing to be seen of man, only something that evokes conjectures as to his former presence. [Illustration: _C. G. Schillings, phot._ GROUP OF MASAI, SHOWING THE HEAVY IRON ORNAMENTS WORN BY THE MARRIED WOMEN. IN THE BACKGROUND, ONE OF THEIR HUTS, PLASTERED OVER WITH EARTH.] For suddenly from a height I notice a number of large mounds, formed of stones, such as only the hand of man could have built up. Under the secure protection of these masses of rock--rough hillocks of heaped up stones--men, who were once chiefs and elders of the Masai, sleep their everlasting sleep. Their resting-places have been so placed that they are not visible from any considerable distance, but are hidden away in the hollows of the ground. Out there in the wilderness, beneath the bright blue sky, these simple old monuments speak to me most impressively of the mighty harmony of everlasting change. As chance will have it, I find not far from the graves a human skull shining brightly in the sunlight and resting on a projecting rock. It must have lain here very long, as if keeping a look out on the old tomb of ol ‘loiboni, the departed “wizards” of the Masai. The empty eye-holes stare at the ancient grave. But this symbol of the least is not obedient to the spell of death that whispers here all night long, for it has had to give shelter and protection to the rearing up of new life. As my hand grasps the skull, now brittle with decay, a family of mice takes to flight from inside of it. They had set up their home in this bony palace, and built their nest there.