These Batoro have grown absolutely reckless in the hunt. Their method is to surround the spot where the leopard is known to lie crouched, and slashing down the thick vegetation that conceals their prey, they gradually draw closer and form a smaller circle round it. All the time they scream and pour down invectives on the head of the leopard, and by the time it actually appears in sight they have worked themselves up into such a state of excitement that, losing all self-control, some will actually throw themselves upon the infuriated creature. With one last death effort the leopard throws all the strength of its fury into its final attack; torn, and perhaps with mangled limb, the man is released from the grasp of his foe by a hundred spears being run through its body. The injured are then borne on stretchers in triumph to the dispensary, and while the wounds are being attended to, the carriers and friends laud the extraordinary prowess of the patient. Every man who is able to carry home a blood-stained spear is sure of his wife killing the fattest goat or cooking the best possible meal in their honour. One day, while dispensing medicine, an unusual shuffling and pushing seemed to be going on in the doorway, and walking round to find out the cause, I saw a cow being pushed by force toward me. The herdsman explained that it was very sick with “Kifuba” (chest—generally meaning indigestion). In order to quickly get rid of this undesirable patient I mixed up some castor oil with salt and ordered it to be administered in one hour’s time. I thought that would allow the cow and its master to get a safe distance off.