Somewhere north of the equator—­before Father Neptune in ancient style had come aboard and ducked the lot of us—­we were treated to the spectacle of how the German “sheep” reacts under a joke.  Each nation has its type of fool; and all, for the joyousness of mankind, differ.  On the bulletin board one evening appeared a notice to the effect that the following morning a limited number of sportsmen would be permitted ashore for the day.  Each was advised to bring his own lunch, rifle, and drinks.  The reason alleged was that the ship must round a certain cape across which the sportsmen could march afoot in sufficient time to permit them a little shooting.

Now aboard ship were a dozen English, four Americans, and thirty or forty Germans.  The Americans and English looked upon that bulletin, smiled gently, and went to order another round of lemon squashes.  It was a meek, mild, little joke enough; but surely the bulletin board was as far as it could possibly go.  Next morning, however, we observed a half-dozen of our German friends in khaki and sun helmet, very busy with lunch boxes, bottles of beer, rifles, and the like.  They said they were going ashore as per bulletin.  We looked at each other and hied us to the upper deck.  There we found one of the boats slung overside, with our old friend the quartermaster ostentatiously stowing kegs of water, boxes, and the like.

“When,” we inquired gently, “does the expedition start?”

“At ten o’clock,” said he.

It was now within fifteen minutes of that hour.

We were at the time fully ten miles off shore, and forging ahead full speed parallel with the coast.

We pointed out this fact to the quartermaster, but found, to our sorrow, that the poor old man had suddenly gone deaf!  We therefore refrained from asking several other questions that had occurred to us—­such as, why the cape was not shown on the map.

“Somebody,” said one of the Americans, a cowboy going out second class on the look for new cattle country, “is a goat.  It sure looks to me like it was these yere steamboat people.  They can’t expect to rope nothing on such a raw deal as this!”

To which the English assented, though in different idiom.

But now up the companion ladder struggled eight serious-minded individuals herded by the second mate.  They were armed to the teeth, and thoroughly equipped with things I had seen in German catalogues, but in whose existence I had never believed.  A half-dozen sailors eagerly helped them with their multitudinous effects.  Not a thought gave they to the fact that we were ten miles off the coast, that we gave no indication of slackening speed, that it would take the rest of the day to row ashore, that there was no cape for us to round, that if there were—­oh! all the other hundred improbabilities peculiar to the situation.  Under direction of the mate they deposited their impedimenta beneath a tarpaulin, and took their places in solemn rows amidships across the thwarts of the boat slung overside.  The importance of the occasion sat upon them heavily; they were going ashore—­in Africa—­to Slay Wild Beasts.  They looked upon themselves as of bolder, sterner stuff than the rest of us.