File:Hunting and hunted in the Belgian Congo (1914) (14750219676).jpg

Identifier: huntinghuntedinb00cooprich (find matches)
Title: Hunting and hunted in the Belgian Congo
Year: 1914 (1910s)
Authors: Cooper, Reginald Davey
Subjects: Hunting -- Congo (Democratic Republic) Congo (Democratic Republic) -- Description and travel
Publisher: London, Smith, Elder
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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Florence was not very enjoyable,for I was suffering from fever again, and was heartilyglad to leave the boat. Only those who have been awayfrom civilization for a time can understand what a delightit was to return. A good bed, well cooked and appetisingfood, the pleasure of seeing white faces and enjoying achat in ones native tongue, all added to my pleasure inreaching the beaten track again. Even the deafeningwhistle of the engine on the train at Port Florencewas a joy to me after my long absence from the outerworld. Of the journey to Mombasa I have little to say.Herds of antelope, buck, zebra, occasional bunches ofgiraffe and buffalo, gazed on the train as we sped pastfrom the lake down the 600-mile iron road that formsthe most wonderful and intensely interesting railwayjourney imaginable. At Nairobi I was greeted by man)friends who were anxious to hear a full account of mytravels, and pressing invitations were given me to staywith many friends, but fever had for the time being 254
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A PLEA FOR THE SAVAGE totally unfitted me for company, and my one wish wasto be alone, quiet and undisturbed. Had I been feelingwell I would have liked to stay and renew old friendships,but in the existing state of my health I preferred to con-tinue the journey. At Mombasa, where I was in hospitalfor some weeks suffering from malaria, I met with thegreatest kindness from many old friends, especiallyMr. Walter Brown. At length I left Mombasa on thegood ship Bilrgermeister, of the D.O.A.L., and sailed forDelagoa Bay. Thus ended my trip in Central Africa atthe age of twenty-three. Those days are now growing faint in the shadow ofthe past, and I am once again in Old England. Thewell-worn helmet and khaki shirt open at the neck, theshort pants and gun are now laid aside for a time. Isuppose I shall soon forget the drawbacks of CentralAfrica and be preparing again for another expedition.It is curious that when you have left a country behind youinvariably remember its good points alone and l

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