BAD SHOOTING. 



2 53 



dozen Harris-bok or sable antelope. The beautiful 

 and noble looking beasts were within seventy-five 

 yards, a most desirable distance, so up went my rifle, 

 and the ball struck an adjoining rock just over the 

 leader's back. The left barrel I now put in with the 

 same result. Astonished I certainly was, and angry 

 too, for I let out one or two big oaths, and stamped 

 around rather energetically, blaming the rifle and 

 not for a moment attributing the failure to my want 

 of skill. But the mystery was soon explained, and 

 I don't think its solution at all acted as a solatium to 

 my wounded feelings. The flap of the back-sight I 

 had neglected to close after elevating it to shoot at 

 the longer range. 



There was plenty of game here, but as so often 

 happens in Africa, the stampede of the alarmed beasts 

 set all the others off; as far as I could see were to be 

 observed zebras, elands, hartebeests, &c, in small 

 parties, madly hurrying to join their numbers to this 

 frightened and rapidly disappearing herd. There 

 was no chance now of killing game in that imme- 

 diate neighbourhood, so we cut across country so as 

 to head the bearers. 



In the afternoon I saw in the distance and far 

 up the hill sides what both my attendants declared 

 to be cattle, and, doubtless, they were correct ; for 

 on an adjoining hill, about half a mile further on, I 

 could distinctly make out a native kraal. 



I am afraid all would have gone supperless to 



