A BLUE WILDEBEEST HUNT 205 



take stock of their pursuer. Nearest to him, lagging 

 a little, is the wounded bull. Another bullet is put 

 into him, and, at the report, away the troop scours 

 again. But the big shaggy bull is now failing fast ; 

 he cannot maintain his place with his fellows, now 

 hasting full tilt right across the plain. His pace grows 

 slower, and he drops far behind. In a few minutes 

 the hunter is within fifty yards. He leaps off once 

 more, fires another shot, and, with the drive of the 

 solid Martini-Henry bullet, the wildebeest sinks 

 softly down, curls up exactly as does a sleepy dog, 

 his limbs relax, and he is beyond his troubles. 

 Although eight good miles have been galloped, and 

 the camp meat is secured, it is now but 8.20 a.m., 

 and the African day is still young. 



