198 A BOOK-LOVER'S HOLIDAYS 



or where the long fronds of palms moved with 

 a ceaseless, dry rustle in the evening breeze. 

 At the drinking-holes, in pond or river, as the 

 afternoon waned, or occasionally after night- 

 fall when the moon was bright, I sometimes 

 lay to see the game filing down to drink. 



On these rides, I continually passed through, 

 and while lying in ambush I often saw, a wealth 

 of wild life, in numbers and variety such as the 

 western world, and the cold-temperate regions 

 of the Old World, have not seen for many, many 

 thousands of years. How many kinds of beasts 

 there were! Giraffes stared at us over the tops 

 of the stunted thorn -trees. In the dawn we 

 saw hyenas shambling homeward after their 

 night's prowl. Wart-hogs as hideous as night- 

 mares ploughed along with their fore knees on 

 the ground as they rooted it up. Sleek oryx 

 with horns like rapiers galloped off with even, 

 gliding gait. Shaggy wildebeests curvetted 

 and plunged with a ferocity both ludicrous 

 and sinister; elands as heavy as prize cattle 

 trotted away with shaking dewlaps. Ungainly 

 hartebeests, and topi whose skins had the 

 sheen of satin, ran with smooth speed. The 

 lyre-horned waterbucks had the stately port 

 of wapiti bulls. Rhinoceros, foolish, mighty, 

 and uncouth, stood half asleep in the bright 



