sound of trampling feet, sometimes like stamps of 

 anger and at other times seemingly a hasty movement. 

 I had on several occasions interrupted fights between 

 angry rivals : once two splendid koodoo bulls were 

 at it ; a second time it was two sables, and the vicious 

 and incredibly swift sweep of the scimitar horns still 

 lives in memory, along with the wonderful nimbleness 

 of the other fellow who dodged it ; and another time 

 they were blue wildebeeste ; but some interruption had 

 occurred each time, and I had no more than a glimpse 

 of what might have been a rare scene to witness. 



I was determined not to spoil it this time : no doubt 

 it was a fight, and probably they were fencing and 

 circling for an opening, as there was no bump of heads 

 or clash of horns and no tearing scramble of feet to 

 indicate the real struggle. I crept on through the 

 rocks and found before me a tangle of thorns and 

 dead wood, impossible to pass through in silence ; it 

 was better to work back again and try the other side 

 of the rocks. The way was clearer there, and I crept 

 up to a rock four or five feet high, feeling certain from 

 the sound that the fight would be in full view a few 

 yards beyond. With the rifle ready I raised myself 

 slowly until my eyes were over the top of the rock. 

 Some twenty yards off, in an open flat of downtrodden 

 grass, I saw a sable cow : she was standing with feet 

 firmly and widely planted, looking fiercely in front of 

 her, ducking -her head in threatening manner every 

 few seconds, and giving angry snorts ; and behind, 

 and huddled up against her, was her scared bewildered 

 little red-brown calf. 

 433 2E 



