Hunting in Many Lands 



minutes — slain by my first shot ; and my satis- 

 faction was complete when I found the hole 

 made by my bullet. My men shouted and sang 

 over this, the first fruits of my expedition, 

 and even at this late day I forgive myself for 

 the feeling of pride I then experienced. I 

 have a table at home made of a piece of this 

 animal's hide, and supported in part by one of 

 its horns. 



The next day I made an early start and 

 worked till 4 o'clock p. m., with no result. 

 Then, being some eight miles from camp, I 

 turned my face toward home. I had not gone 

 far, and had reached the outskirts of an almost 

 treeless savanna, when my gun-bearer brought 

 me to a halt by the word mbogo. This I knew 

 meant buffalo. I adjusted my glass and fol- 

 lowed the direction of my man's finger. There, 

 500 yards away, I saw a solitary buffalo feeding 

 slowly along toward two low bushes, but on 

 the further side of them. I did not think what 

 rifle I held (it was a .450), but dashed forward 

 at once. My gun-bearer was more thoughtful 

 and brought with him my 577. We actually 

 ran. When within eighty or ninety yards of 

 the two bushes behind which the beast was 

 now hidden, I slackened pace and approached 



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