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and continuously alive。 Often when riding horseback with the dogs in my California home I have watched them in envy of the keen； alert interest they took in every stone； stick； and bush； in every sight； sound； and smell。 With equal frequency I have expressed that envy； but as something unattainable to a human being's more phlegmatic make…up。 In Africa one actually rises to continuous alertness。 There are dozy moments…except you curl up in a safe place for the PURPOSE of dozing； again just like the dog！ Every bush； every hollow； every high tuft of grass； every deep shadow must be scrutinized for danger。 It will not do to pass carelessly any possible lurking place。 At the same time the sense of hearing must be on guard； so that no break of twig or crash of bough can go unremarked。 Rhinoceroses conceal themselves most cannily； and have a deceitful habit of leaping from a nap into their swiftest stride。 Cobras and puff adders are scarce； to be sure； but very deadly。 Lions will generally give way； if not shot at or too closely pressed； nevertheless there is always the chance of cubs or too close a surprise。 Buffalo lurk daytimes in the deep thickets； but occasionally a rogue bull lives where your trail will lead。 These things do not happen often； but in the long run they surely do happen； and once is quite enough provided the beast gets in。
At first this continual alertness and tension is rather exhausting； but after a very short time it becomes second nature。 A sudden rustle the other side a bush no longer brings you up all standing with your heart in your throat； but you are aware of it； and you are facing the possible danger almost before your slower brain has issued any orders to that effect。
In rereading the above； I am afraid that I am conveying the idea that one here walks under the shadow of continual uneasiness。 This is not in the least so。 One enjoys the sun； and the birds and the little things。 He cultivates the great leisure of mind that shall fill the breadth of his outlook abroad over a newly wonderful world。 But underneath it all is the alertness； the responsiveness to quick reflexes of judgment and action； the intimate correlations to immediate environment which must characterize the instincts of the higher animals。 And it is good to live these things。
Along the edge of that river jungle were many strange and beautiful affairs。 I could slip along among the high clumps of the thicker bushes in such a manner as to be continually coming around unexpected bends。 Of such maneouvres are surprises made。 The graceful red impalla were here very abundant。 I would come on them； their heads up； their great ears flung forward； their noses twitching in inquiry of something they suspected but could not fully sense。 When slightly alarmed or suspicious the does always stood compactly in a herd； while the bucks remained discreetly in the background； their beautiful； branching； widespread horns showing over the backs of their harems。 The impalla is； in my opinion； one of the most beautiful and graceful of the African bucks； a perpetual delight to watch either standing or running。 These beasts are extraordinarily agile； and have a habit of breaking their ordinary fast run by unexpectedly leaping high in the air。 At a distance they give somewhat the effect of dolphins at sea； only their leaps are higher and more nearly perpendicular。 Once or twice I have even seen one jump over the back of another。 On another occasion we saw a herd of twenty…five or thirty cross a road of which； evidently； they were a little suspicious。 We could not find a single hoof mark in the dust！ Generally these beasts frequent thin brush country； but I have three or four times seen them quite out in the open flat plains； feeding with the hartebeeste and zebra。 They are about the size of our ordinary deer； are delicately fashioned； and can utter the most incongruously grotesque of noises by way of calls or ordinary conversation。
The lack of curiosity； or the lack of gallantry； of the impalla bucks was； in my experience； quite characteristic。 They were almost always the farthest in the background and the first away when danger threatened。 The ladies could look out for themselves。 They had no horns to save； and what do the fool women mean by showing so little sense； anyway！ They deserve what they get！ It used to amuse me a lot to observe the utter abandonment of all responsibility by these handsome gentlemen。 When it came time to depart； they departed。 Hang the girls！ They trailed along after as fast as they could。
The waterbuck…a fine large beast about the size of our caribou； a well…conditioned buck resembling in form and attitude the finest of Landseer's stags…on the other hand； had a little more sense of responsibility； when he had anything to do with the sex at all。 He was hardly what you might call a strictly domestic character。 I have hunted through a country for several days at a time without seeing a single mature buck of this species； although there were plenty of does； in herds of ten to fifty； with a few infants among them just sprouting horns。 Then finally； in some small grassy valley； I would come on the Men's Club。 There they were； ten； twenty； three dozen of them； having the finest kind of an untramelled masculine time all by themselves。 Generally； however； I will say for them； they took care of their own peoples。 There would quite likely be one big old fellow； his harem of varying numbers； and the younger subordinate bucks all together in a happy family。 When some one of the lot announced that something was about； and they had all lined up to stare in the suspected direction； the big buck was there in the foreground of inquiry。 When finally they made me out； it was generally the big buck who gave the signal。 He went first； to be sure； but his going first was evidently an act of leadership； and not merely a disgraceful desire to get away before the rest did。
But the waterbuck had to yield in turn to the plains gazelles； especially to the Thompson's gazelle； familiarly…and affectionately…known as the 〃Tommy。〃 He is a quaint little chap； standing only a foot and a half tall at the shoulder； fawn colour on top； white beneath； with a black； horizontal stripe on his side； like a chipmunk； most lightly and gracefully built。 When he was first made； somebody told him that unless he did something characteristic； like waggling his little tail； he was likely to be mistaken by the undiscriminating for his bigger cousin； the Grant's gazelle。 He has waggled his tail ever since； and so is almost never mistaken for a Grant's gazelle； even by the undiscriminating。 Evidently his religion is Mohammedan； for he always has a great many wives。 He takes good care of them； however。 When danger appears； even when danger threatens； he is the last to leave the field。 Here and there he dashes frantically； seeing that the women and children get off。 And when the herd tops the hill； Tommy's little horns bring up the rear of the procession。 I like Tommy。 He is a cheerful； gallant； quaint little person； with the air of being quite satisfied with his own solution of this complicated world。
Among the low brush at the edge of the river jungle dwelt also the dik…dik；