OUR BATTERIES. Q 



believed that it would have fared badly with me had 

 not my attendant put in a lucky shot. Moral. — 

 Never go up to big game unless you are certain 

 that they are dead. 



Here we remained two days making biltong of our 

 meat, for we had at least fifty more miles to travel 

 before we reached the country where Sunday ex- 

 pected elephants to be abundant, and not alarmed by 

 hunters. So I will take this opportunity of describ- 

 ing my battery, both of which were muzzle-loaders 

 and 12-bore. First, a shot gun, which threw a ball 

 very well up to fifty yards, but was too light for 

 heavy charges ; secondly, a two-grooved rifle, 

 weighing about ten pounds. With light charges, say 

 three to three and a half drachms of powder, it was an 

 accurate weapon, but when six were substituted, the 

 less said about its precision the better. I soon dis- 

 covered that light charges were absolutely useless 

 against very large game, so, nolens volens, had to 

 adopt the heavy. 



There was one advantage about this weapon — it 

 was bound to do execution somehow, for, if it did not 

 knock the object over it was aimed at, it was likely 

 to send the firer to grass, or at all events, badly wing 

 him. I had no alternative but to use this beast of a 

 "shooting iron," and, as may be well imagined, I 

 always did so with fear and trembling. My com- 

 panions' arms were identical in calibre, only Dillon 

 had a smooth-bore rifle instead of a grooved, and the 



