THE GREATER KUDU 



same old, old sign, made many months before. If 

 you had stood with us atop one of the mountains, 

 and with us had looked abroad on the countless 

 leagues of rolling, brush-clothed land, undulating 

 away in all directions over a far horizon, you must 

 with us have estimated as very slight the chances of 

 happening on the exact pin point where the kudu at 

 that moment happened to be feeding. For the 

 beast is shy, it inhabits the densest, closest mountain 

 cover, it possesses the keen eyesight and sense of 

 smell of the bush-dwelling deer and antelope, and 

 more than the average sense of hearing. There 

 are very few of him. But the chief discouragement 

 is that arising from his roaming tendencies. Other 

 rare animals are apt to "use" about one locality, so 

 that once the hunter finds tracks, new or old, his 

 game is one of patient, skillful search. The greater 

 kudu, however seems in this country at least to be 

 a wanderer. He is here to-day, and gone to-morrow. 

 Systematic search seems as foolish as in the case of 

 the proverbial needle in the haystack. The only 

 method is to shift constantly, and trust to luck. One 

 cannot catch fish with the fly in the book, but he has 

 at least a chance if he keeps it on the water. 



Mavrouki was the only one among us who had 

 the living faith that comes from having seen the 

 animal in the flesh. That is a curious bit of hunter 



367 



