A vain hunt for lions occupied all the next day.  The third morning C. started for the boma, leaving Billy and me to look about us as we willed.  Shortly after he had departed a delegation of Masai came in, dressed in their best, and bearing presents of milk.  Leyeye was summoned as interpreter.

The Masai informed us that last night a lion had leapt the thorn walls of their boma, had pressed on through the fires, had seized a two-year-old steer, and had dragged the beast outside.  Then the pursuit with spears and firebrands had become too hot for him, so that he had dropped his victim and retired.  They desired (a) medicine for the steer, (b) magic to keep that lion away, (c) that I should assist them in hunting the lion down.

I questioned them closely, and soon discovered both that the lion must have been very bold, and also that he had received a pretty lively reception.  Magic to keep him away seemed like a safe enough proposition, for the chances were he would keep himself away.

Therefore I filled a quart measure with clear water, passed my hand across its untroubled surface—­and lo! it turned a clear bright pink!

Long-drawn exclamations of “Eigh!  Eigh!” greeted this magic, performed by means of permanganate crystals held between the fingers.

“With this bathe the wounds of your steer.  Then sprinkle the remainder over your cattle.  The lion will not return,” said I. Then reflecting that I was to be some time in the country, and that the lion might get over his scare, I added, “The power of this magic is three days.”

They departed very much impressed.  A little later Memba Sasa and I followed them.  The manyatta was most picturesquely placed atop the conical hill at the foot of the valley.  From its elevation we could see here and there in the distance the variegated blotches of red and white and black that represented the cattle herds.  Innumerable flocks of sheep and goats, under charge of the small boys and youths, fed nearer at hand.  The low smooth-plastered huts, with their abattis of thorn bush between, crowned the peak like a chaplet.  Outside it sat a number of elders sunning themselves, and several smiling, good-natured young women, probably the spoiled darlings of these plutocrats.  One of these damsels spake Swahili, so we managed to exchange compliments.  They told us exactly when and how the lion had gone.  Three nimble old gentlemen accompanied us when we left.  They were armed with spears; and they displayed the most extraordinary activity, skipping here and there across the ravines and through the brush, casting huge stones into likely cover, and generally making themselves ubiquitous.  However, we did not come up with the lion.