A DAY IN KHAMA's COUNTRY 25 



mind of every one who has travelled in the South 

 African interior. 



We were not long in motion before the deep, 

 rocky bed of a dry river-course intersected our path. 

 There was a sharp descent, and the boulders and 

 rocks were rather abundant. The wagons bumped, 

 crashed, and swayed perilously, but there was no 

 upset, and we came safely across. 



A little later, just at sundown, we entered upon 

 a magnificent bit of grassy, park-like country, 

 inclosed in a setting of picturesque hills. Dove 

 and I got down from the wagons and stretched 

 our legs. The grass was very tall, reaching to 

 the shoulders; yet, in spite of this, Dove found a 

 covey of Coqui francolins, and shot a brace very 

 neatly. It was a curious scene. I, who was close 

 behind, could see only my friend's hat, shoulders, 

 bare arms, and levelled gun, and the stricken 

 partridges as they fell instantly to his shots. There 

 was, as usual, a glorious sunset, and the affair was 

 perfectly silhouetted against the strong golden light 

 and the evening sky. Scotty, the pointer, who had 

 found the game, was of course completely hidden 

 in the tall, yellow grass. Numbers of sand-grouse 

 were to be seen and heard hurrying to their evening 

 drink at the nearest water. 



This was but a short trek, and an hour or so later 

 we outspanned for the night by a pool of water. 



