For the past generation the only professional ivory hunter in Africa has been John Taylor, and here, less to thrill than enlighten those destined to follow his spoor, are the inner secrets of this biggest chase of them all. ""Pondoro"", as the author is familiarly called by the natives, was the son of one of England's leading surgeons. However, the benefits of the best school (barring the readings in Rider Haggard) were rapidly discarded in favor of instruction from a primitive guide in the wisdoms of edible bark and root, animal habits, and the use of the prongs of the white ant to suture wounds inflicted by a leopard. Pondoro, having disdained other trappings of civilization, dispensed with such superfluities as clothing. He has not only shared the lives of the primitive people he preferred, but for years at a time lost touch with white people. His record of hunting adventures abounds in valuable pointers for addicts- armchair and actual- and these seem to speed up and intensify the action, though the Sunday hunter and the sunshire zoologist will shrink from some of Pondoro's tales. These are naturals for red-blooded he-men and seasoned sportsmen.