I often watched him and wondered what he was thinking about.
Sulimani was really one of the best natural hunters in the whole _safari_.

He had a native instinct for tracking that was wonderful; he had courage that was fatalistic, and he seemed to know what an animal would do and where it would go under certain conditions.

Beneath that dopy somnolence of manner his senses were alert and his eyes were usually the first to see distant game.
He had originally been a porter when we started out, but I gave him a new suit of khaki and promoted him to the position of second gunbearer.
As long as we were in touch with civilization he kept that khaki suit in a condition of spotlessness, but when we got out in the wilds, away from the girls, it soon became stiff with blood-stains and dirt.

The natural savage instinct became predominant; he reverted to type.
His jaunty red fez was replaced by a headgear made of the beautiful skin of a Uganda cob.

Ostrich and maribou feathers stuck out from the top, while upon his feet were sandals made from the thick skin of a waterbuck.