136 AFRICAN GAME TRAILS 



The morning after making our camp, we started at dawn 

 for the buffalo ground, Kermit and I, Cuninghame and 

 Heatley, and the Boer farmer with three big, powerful 

 dogs. We walked near the edge of the swamp. The why- 

 dah birds were continually bobbing up and down in front 

 of us as they rose and fell on their dancing-places, while 

 the Kavirondo cranes called mournfully all around. Be- 

 fore we had gone two miles, buffalo were spied, well ahead, 

 feeding close to the papyrus. The line of the papyrus 

 which marked the edge of the swamp was not straight, but 

 broken by projections and indentations; and by following it 

 closely and cutting cautiously across the points, the oppor- 

 tunity for stalking was good. As there was not a tree of 

 any kind anywhere near, we had to rely purely on our 

 shooting to prevent damage from the buffalo. Kermit and 

 I had our double-barrels, with the Winchesters as spare 

 guns, while Cuninghame carried a 577, and Heatley a 

 magazine rifle. 



Cautiously threading our way along the edge of the 

 swamp, we got within a hundred and fifty yards of the 

 buffalo before we were perceived. There were four bulls, 

 grazing close by the edge of the swamp, their black bodies 

 glistening in the early sun-rays, their massive horns show- 

 ing white, and the cow-herons perched on their backs. 

 They stared sullenly at us with outstretched heads from 

 under their great frontlets of horn. The biggest of the four 

 stood a little out from the other three, and at him I fired, 

 the bullet telling with a smack on the tough hide and going 

 through the lungs. We had been afraid they would at once 

 turn into the papyrus, but instead of this they started 

 straight across our front directly for the open country. 



