And as if the Masai, resting probably for centuries under these heaps of stone, had left their herds to me, once more there surges around me this sea of animals. Near at hand they are sharply defined against the ground, but farther off in the glittering light they grow indefinite. How the whole flood of life contrasts with the grim volcanic barrenness of the landscape! At this moment my impression of vast shepherd-guarded herds is deepened by the sudden appearance of some spotted hyenas, scattering among the volcanic pebble beds, and then running away over the plain, and seeming to play the part of the shepherds’ dogs. But where are the herdsmen of all these herds? Immediately there comes an answer to my question. Yonder, by the margin of the lake, in the distance, I see little wreaths of smoke rising. The idea they give me of herdsmen on the watch is to be quickly dissipated by a report, not a loud one, followed by puffs of powder-smoke that vanish quickly in the air. The shooting does not disturb the animals that surround me. But then the report is hardly audible, the little puffs of smoke barely perceptible to the eye. I must find out who is disturbing the peace. It is perhaps a caravan making for the Victoria Nyanza. For we are upon the new “road” to the lake--a road which is indeed still in the region of projects, but which soon will be plainly marked with railway metal. The smoke puffs appear at markedly regular intervals and as quickly disappear. I cannot understand it. For a long time I keep my attention anxiously fixed on these proceedings, all the while hurrying towards this remarkable apparition. At last my field-glasses enable me to descry a man, who from time to time drops on one knee to take aim. [Illustration: _C. G. Schillings, phot._ A PARTY OF MY TRUSTY COMPANIONS.] What in the world is he after? As we draw closer, I am extremely surprised at seeing that the man does not allow himself to be in the least disturbed in his proceedings. Now his bullets begin to whistle unpleasantly near me. I fire in the air, once, twice.... Now his attention is attracted, and simultaneously I perceive a number of dark objects near the marksman. They seem to be his companions, black men, and squatting on the ground. From the background there emerge now great numbers of such objects--it must be a large caravan. The distance between us is diminished so that one can see plainly.... Now we can shout to each other.... At last I learn that the hunter is marching with his long caravan of bearers to the great lake. He has been putting out all his exertions to shoot some wild animals. But although he has many surprisingly interesting hunting adventures to tell of as the result of his three months’ march from the coast to this point, that task seems to have been beyond his powers! With a well-aimed shot he has stretched on the ground just one single dwarf gazelle!!