THE LOWER BENCHES 



At evening we made a crafty sneak atop the mesa- 

 like foothills to a point overlooking the leopard's 

 kill. We lay here looking the place over inch by 

 inch through our glasses, when an ejaculation of 

 disgust from Kongoni called our attention. There 

 at another spot that confounded beast sat like a 

 house cat watching us cynically. Either we had 

 come too soon, or she had heard us and retired to 

 what she considered a safe distance. There was of 

 course no chance of getting nearer; so I sat down, 

 for a steadier hold, and tried her anyway. At the 

 shot she leaped high in the air, rolled over once, 

 then recovered her feet and streaked off at full speed. 

 Just before disappearing over a slight rise, she 

 stopped to look back. I tried her again. We con- 

 cluded this shot a miss, as the distance and light 

 were such that only sheer luck could have landed 

 the bullet. However, that luck was with us. Later 

 developments showed that both shots had hit. 

 One cut a foreleg, but without breaking a bone, and 

 the other had hit the paunch. One was at 380 

 paces and the other at 490. 



We found blood on the trail; and followed it a 

 hundred yards and over a small ridge to a wide 

 patch of high grass. It was now dark; the grass 

 was very high; and the animal probably desperate. 

 The situation did not look good to us, badly armed 



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