BAD SHOOTING 29 



monoliths ran outwards, each of which represented a 

 foeman slain by the dead warrior. 



The next day my rifle performed one of the most 

 extraordinary bits of bad shooting I have ever seen. 

 We had just left the caravan, when my syce saw a cow 

 kudu, which Ali, who was a little ahead, had failed to 

 notice. I jumped off my pony and ran forward, in time 

 to see a bull just topping a ridge. A snap-shot missed 

 it, and the pair then circled round us, we running along 

 a slight depression in the ground to try and cut them 

 off. Twice I fired, once at the head and again at the 

 ridge of the back, as it showed just above the ground 

 line, but each time struck low. Then, to our surprise, 

 the animals turned and came leisurely towards us, and 

 I fired two shots with the telescopic sight, but without 

 the least apparent result, beyond a slight start as the 

 beasts heard the shot fired. I then tried the Lyman 

 sight, and had three miss-fires running. By this time 

 the beast was not 60 yards off, and I began to think 

 myself bewitched. At last one more shot dropped it, and 

 running up I gave it the quietus. We found two bullets 

 had gone through the chest into the body, and another 

 had broken a hind-leg, yet the animal must have received 

 at least one of these without showing the slightest sign 

 of being wounded. While the men were skinning, I 

 stuck up a mark, and found the rifle was shooting 9 

 inches too low at 100 yards. Soon after noon we 

 reached camp on the river Herrer, a pretty stream with 

 well -wooded banks. In the evening I stalked some 

 oryx, but quite failed to bag one, my shikari having 

 been playing with the sights. H. had shot what he took 



