198 NATURE AND SPORT IN SOUTH AFRICA 



eight o'clock. The brilliant rollers and the queer, 

 bizarre hornbills in the bush behind us are busy; 

 that troop of guinea-fowl crossing the open is off for 

 its day of digging. It is time the hunter shot a buck 

 and rode away. He has been watching, with keen 

 enjoyment, for an hour. But, you will say, why de- 

 stroy the beauty of the scene, the pure freedom of 

 desert life ? Alas ! men must live. There is nothing 

 at the wagons but zebra meat, uneatable by Euro- 

 peans. The rifle goes up at the nearest buck, not 

 much more than two hundred and twenty yards away. 

 He is a fat ram, in high condition. With the glass 

 you may note his gleaming rufous coat, the dark 

 chestnut of his flank stripe, the snow-whiteness of his 

 face and belly. He stands there the easiest shot on 

 the pan. 



The rifle cracks, the bullet strikes up the white 

 sand beneath the antelope's belly, and ricochets far 

 into the distance. The buck leaps high iu air, and 

 trots off. Steady ! he is not much alarmed ; there is 

 commotion on the pan, but he will not go far yet. 

 He trots jauntily thirty paces, then stands again. 

 This time the bullet strikes home, just behind the 

 shoulder. That terrific impact is too much even for 

 the wonderful vitality of a springbok, and the ram 

 lies there dead upon the pan. The hunter will 

 have springbok fry for breakfast. The hunting 

 pony is mounted, and ridden down to the pan ; the 



