The ostrich farm is situated on the very top of a conical rise that sticks up like an island close inshore to the semicircle of mountains in which end the vast plains of Kapiti.  Thus the Hills have at their backs and sides these solid ramparts and face westward the immensities of space.  For Kapiti goes on over the edge of the world to unknown, unguessed regions, rolling and troubled like a sea.  And from that unknown, on very still days, the snowy peak of Kilimanjaro peers out, sketched as faintly against the sky as a soap bubble wafted upward and about to disappear.  Here and there on the plains kopjes stand like islands, their stone tops looking as though thrust through the smooth prairie surface from beneath.  To them meandered long, narrow ravines full of low brush, like thin, wavering streaks of gray.  On these kopjes—­each of which had its name—­and in these ravines we were to hunt lions.

We began the ascent of the cone on which dwelt our hosts.  It was one of those hills that seem in no part steep, and yet which finally succeed in raising one to a considerable height.  We passed two ostrich herds in charge of savages, rode through a scattered native village, and so came to the farm itself, situated on the very summit.

The house consisted of three large circular huts, thatched neatly with papyrus stalks, and with conical roofs.  These were arranged as a triangle, just touching each other; and the space between had been roofed over to form a veranda.  We were ushered into one of these circular rooms.  It was spacious and contained two beds, two chairs, a dresser, and a table.  Its earth floor was completely covered by the skins of animals.  In the corresponding room, opposite, slept our hosts; while the third was the living and dining room.  A long table, raw-hide bottomed chairs, a large sideboard, bookcases, a long easy settee with pillows, gun racks, photographs in and out of frames, a table with writing materials, and books and magazines everywhere—­not to speak of again the skins of many animals completely covering the floor.  Out behind, in small, separate buildings, laboured the cook, and dwelt the stores, the bath-tub, and other such necessary affairs.

As soon as we had consumed the usual grateful lime juice and sparklets, we followed our hosts into the open air to look around.

On this high, airy hill top the Hills some day are going to build them a real house.  In anticipation they have laid out grounds and have planted many things.  In examining these my California training stood by me.  Out there, as here, one so often examines his own and his neighbours’ gardens, not for what they are but for what they shall become.  His imagination can exalt this tiny seedling to the impressiveness of spreading noontime shade; can magnify yonder apparent duplicate to the full symmetry of a shrub; can ruthlessly diminish the present importance of certain grand and lofty growths to its true status of flower or animal.  So from a dead uniformity of size he casts forward in the years to a pleasing variation of shade, of jungle, of open glade, of flowered vista; and he goes away full of expert admiration for “X.’s bully garden.”  With this solid training beneath me I was able on this occasion to please immensely.