Hunting at High Altitude* 



night before they got into the bush, but without 

 success. Several times we followed them in an 

 unpleasant experience, as most of the time we had 

 to crawl on all fours, and in each case a buffalo 

 we had passed close by without seeing got our wind 

 and alarmed the herd. At last I had my men build 

 a platform in the branches of a tree on the edge 

 of the water, and here I determined to spend the 

 night. The platform was made of poles across 

 two branches about twenty feet from the ground, 

 and here with blankets, water bottle, rifle and field 

 glasses, I took my position about 4 o'clock in the 

 afternoon, the men returning to camp a mile away. 

 No sooner had the men left than the game 

 began coming in to drink, first a little herd of roan 

 appeared from among the open bush, not seeming 

 to walk out like domestic animals, but occupying 

 a place that a moment before was vacant, like a 

 magic lantern picture on a screen. For over an 

 hour by my watch they stood, getting up courage 

 to face the chance of lions in the reeds or the many 

 game pits built in the surrounding banks pits 

 eight feet long by three feet wide and six feet 

 deep, tapering in a V to the bottom. At last they 

 walked down and drank of the liquid mud, raising 

 their heads at frequent intervals while doing so, 

 then hurriedly walked away. Zebra, hartebeest 



362 



