ZEBRA 



the swamp from within, but no picture can convey 

 any idea of the true character of the place. At length 

 I reached the junction of the Lak Arro Dima, and 

 following- that, came out on to the plains, where I 

 found my headman had made camp some two miles 

 away. In the distance, to the north-east, the Lorian 

 hills rose gendy from the plain, their oudine softened 

 by the shimmering heat waves ; to the south the dark 

 green of the reed bed could be seen stretching away 

 in an unbroken line to the horizon, and in between 

 lay the interminable alluvial flats, bare and desolate, 

 save for an occasional stunted bush or a small herd 

 of game, made fantastic and unreal by the shifting 

 and ever present mirage. 



Lack of food, however, rendered it imperative that 

 I should go out in search of meat. I soon spotted a 

 couple of zebra ; they were rather suspicious, and 

 would gallop off for two or three hundred yards every 

 time I thought I was getting within shooting distance. 

 There being no cover, it was useless to try a stalk, so 

 I got up and walked slowly but steadily diagonally 

 towards them. This ruse succeeded at last, after a 

 couple of attempts, and I managed to approach fairly 

 close. I then sat down quickly, took rapid aim and 

 fired at the stallion. The bullet hit him just below 

 the shoulder, breaking the leg, but not wounding him 

 fatally. As he went off I fired twice again, but 

 missed. I had had nothing to eat that day, except 

 a cup of tea and some toast, and I determined I would 

 not lose him, so I got on my mule and, with my rifle 

 in my hand, galloped after him. It was not very 

 long before I overtook him, handicapped as he was 

 by his broken leg. 



My mule's blood was up and she became almost 



2IO 



