CHAPTER XV 



A BLUE WILDEBEEST HUNT 



A July morning — Desert scenery — The sight of game — Pre- 

 parations for the hunt — " Saddle up " — The troop in 

 motion — A hard gallop — A nasty fall — Rifle tactics — A 

 charge in line— An old bull hit — The finishing stroke — 

 The death. 



On a July morning in the South African veldt two 



hunters stand, just after sunrise, upon the voor-hist 



(fore-box) of one of their wagons, and, leaning upon 



the tilt, scan eagerly the great plains around them. 



It is a typical scene in the far interior. Behind 



them, four miles away, runs a sluggish river, the 



Botletli, its course indicated by some tall trees, 



among them slender palms, which somehow always 



manage to convey the impression of heat to an 



already sufficiently hot landscape. In every other 



direction, far as the eye can reach, stretches an 



interminable expanse of plain, yellow with long 



winter grass, treeless, and utterly devoid of shade. 



At this hour, the immense hollow of sky, which in 



this flat country looms unutterably vast, is of a 



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