In this way an
expedition comes to be regarded as lucky or unlucky, or lucky on
certain days, or at certain hours of the day, or at certain
periods of the moon. The wide reaches of the African veldt have
something to do with it, perhaps.
These superstitions are temporary, local, and often purely
personal affairs. Means, being a cowboy, believed that when he
rode his big-boned bay the drive would be successful. The native
dog-boy insisted that when the long-eared bloodhound and the
little white terrier were coupled together on the march, the rest
of the pack would come through without mishap. Loveless swore by
a particular piece of rope, and Mac--which is short for
Mohammed--discovered propitious omens on every conceivable
occasion.
It was on the first day's march into the Kedong Valley that we
had roped the wart-hog. On the journey from Sewell's Farm to
Rugged Rocks we had rounded up and photographed the eland. Again,
it was on the trek of March 8 to the Wangai River that we had
caught our only glimpses of rhinoceros and lion--faint chances of
making a capture, but still chances, and better than no signs at
all.
And thus, merely because it had turned out so in the past every
member of the expedition had come to entertain a semi-serious
belief that something momentous was bound to happen on moving
day.
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