AFTER ROAN ANTELOPE. 



35 



If the wind had been right on this occasion I might possibly have got a shot at 

 him. A lion will often stand when he sees a man, but the smell of one sends him off 

 instantly. Feeling unwell with fever, I went back to the tent and lay down for a few 

 hours, but feeling better in the afternoon, I went out and shot a warthog boar, with 

 very fair tushes ; I also killed a hartebeest and a reedbuck, as I needed the meat for 

 my men. 



On July 22nd, feeling still weak from fever, I thought the best thing would 

 be to go out and try to walk it off — a very effectual cure sometimes. I saw a 

 considerable amount of game such as hartebeest, reedbuck, oribi, and duiker, but did 

 not fire at any of these animals, hoping to see roan. I had a blank day, however, for 

 I did not see any. That night turned very cold, and as I had only two blankets I did 

 not sleep well. The bitter air did not improve the fever either, and it was a verv 

 shivery mortal that opened the tent flap next morning. However, a hot camp fire 

 and tea soon did wonders, and I left to look for roan again. Before the sun was high 

 the air was bitter, and my fingers felt as cold as they used to do while duck shooting 

 on the shores of the River Tay in midwinter. 



We had travelled for quite ten miles without seeing roan or any very fresh spoor, 

 when one of the men saw a herd of the animals. Some distance to the right of the 

 herd we saw a single beast which looked larger than the others, so expecting him to 

 be a bull I prepared to get nearer. A nice clump of trees enabled me to approach 

 within one hundred and fifty yards, and the doomed animal did the rest, for he began 

 to walk towards my ambush. He passed at forty-five yards, slouching along with his 

 head near the ground. When he was opposite me I aimed at his shoulder and 

 pressed the trigger, which finished him, as the bullet raked both shoulders. 



As he took some time to die, I put him out of pain with another bullet through 

 the neck. He was a grand specimen, and the oldest-looking beast of his species I 

 have ever shot. His horns were worn to stumps and were all chipped and broken 

 with fighting. Most old roan have horns of different lengths, for they seem to use one 

 for digging. In a country where roan are plentiful, many places will be seen where 

 they have routed up the ground. Whether this is done in search of food or only for 

 exercise, I do not know, but the fact remains that they do it. The tail of this bull 

 was missing, and my men said it had been bitten off by a lion; and I think this was so, 

 for there were some old scars on his rump and along his back. 



On the mofning of the 24th I struck camp and started back to Fort Manning, 

 sending my loads and trophies by the native path and going across country with two 

 men. On the way I got among- a pack of hunting dogs, and shot four of them. 

 These animals destroy a vast amount of game, so they ought to be shot whenever 



