THE BIG GAME OF AFRICA 



contained a great many dense bushes, and here and there 

 an occasional rubber vine of the Landolphia family. After 

 more than two hours of difficult tracking we finally sighted 

 some buffaloes about one hundred yards distant, standing 

 across a small open grass patch in the midst of the forest. 

 From where we stood we singled out the one that seemed 

 the largest bull, as it was impossible to get any nearer to 

 the herd, there being not the slightest cover to stalk be- 

 hind, and the grass too short to conceal a man, even if 

 creeping. 



I fired with the big Express gun, aiming for the buf- 

 falo's heart. At the crack of the gun the herd made off 

 in a wild stampede, disappearing in the thicket. My gun 

 bearer said in a sad tone in his pidgin swahili : " Hapana 

 piga bwana." (You did not hit, sir.) Indeed, I thought 

 the same, for the big buffalo, at which I had aimed, 

 bounded off with the rest of the herd with mighty leaps, as 

 he vanished in the bush. I decided to cross the open grass 

 patch to see if there would not at least be some blood 

 marks that we could follow, feeling certain that the buffalo 

 must have been hit somewhere, even if not in a deadly 

 spot. It now became evident how much the natives them- 

 selves fear the buffalo, for they followed me most unwil- 

 lingly, saying that if a buffalo is wounded and followed 

 in the dense jungle, he is much more ferocious and cun- 

 ning than even the lion ; that he often doubles in his tracks 

 and hides in the dense bush close by, until his pursuer is 

 almost upon him. Then he makes a wild dash at him, and 

 either tosses him to death, or gores him with his powerful 

 horns. 



With the greatest caution, therefore, we crossed the 



no 



