As I have said, there were a number of Masai in the valley, but I had no trouble with them; many of them came into camp with milk, which I bought from them. I found that it had a distinctly smoky taste, due to the gourds in which it is carried being hung over the fire to clean them.
The Masai always seemed well disposed towards me, and, as is their custom when they wish to be polite, paid me the compliment of spitting on their hands before shaking hands with me. The bearing of the _elmoran_, or warriors, was certainly truculent and insulting, but I managed not to give offence, and even succeeded in trading with them for a few donkeys to replace those of mine which had died on the road, and one which had been killed by a hyena; and when the animals were sufficiently rested, we were able to resume our journey to Lake Naivasha, where there is a Government station, without further incident of note.
The natives along the Uganda Road were now beginning to get accustomed to the altered state of things. Caravans were going through the country regularly, and they had sense enough to understand that the white man had come to stay, and any attempt to oppose his coming would probably have serious consequences for themselves, resulting in the loss of their herds and their best grazing-grounds. Of course they did not realize all this at once. The old fighting spirit of the warriors could not be entirely checked in a moment, but it was only in isolated instances that they dared to attack the white intruders; they had always been accustomed to make war on the neighbouring tribes as they pleased, and up to recent years would raid portions of British East African territory, and make organized descents into German East Africa. To the present day they will carry off cattle whenever the opportunity offers, arguing that, as the original owners of all the cattle in the country, they are perfectly within their rights in helping themselves.
Two or three days later we camped by the side of Lake Elmenteita, where I had a curious experience with a lion. It had been my custom to give out rations about once a week, but my men had exchanged their flour with the Masai for milk, and we had run short of food, so I said I would go and shoot them some meat. As I had practically run out of ammunition also, I took only two or three rounds out with me, and these I had fired off without result, with the exception of the one round which it is usual to keep in case of emergency. On the way back to camp I saw a zebra, which I thought would be just the thing for the men, so I started to crawl on hands and knees towards an ant-hill which was about fifty yards from the zebra, thinking that from there I could get him with one shot. With my rifle in one hand and the cartridge in the other, I had reached the ant-hill, and was just looking round the corner to get a shot at the zebra, when I saw a lion about two yards off looking straight at me. He was evidently after the zebra too, and the meeting was a pretty big surprise for both of us. It is one thing to go out hunting a lion, but quite another to meet one unexpectedly round a corner in this way, and I was so taken aback that I could not find the cartridge. I was far too surprised to be scared, and started fumbling in my pockets and about my clothes to find the cartridge which I held in my hand; the lion also seemed to think there was something curious about the affair, as, after looking at me for a few seconds, he walked quietly away, before I discovered the cartridge in my hand. By this time the zebra had also gone, and with it the last chance of any meat that night.