Eland and Sable Antelope 
I killed a very nice eland bull at this place, 
and some of the meat we made into biltong. 
This was done by cutting the meat into long 
strips, salting in a heap for a few hours, then 
hanging it up to dry in the sun. This antelope 
is the only one of the various kinds I shot that 
had any fat on it—this bull was full of it. My 
boys would have annexed the whole lot if a 
watchful eye had not been kept upon them. As 
it was, I saw three or four pots full that they had 
stolen, and which they had melted down for 
future consumption. 
Whilst on the hills looking for game with 
three or four boys, a Matabele boy, who was 
a favourite of mine, whom I had nicknamed 
*“Cooe,” and made my gun-bearer, touched 
me on the shoulder and pointed to a small 
brownish-coloured bird that chattered on a small 
tree close to the path we were on. This chatter- 
ing I can only liken to the repeated shutting of 
the lid of a small wooden box, but so rapidly 
executed that the sound seemed to be almost 
continuous. I did not understand what my boy 
meant to convey to me. He pointed to the 
bird and then to his mouth, so I told him to 
*Hamba,” which I thought meant “Go on.” 
He at once went towards the bird, which there- 
upon flew on to another small bush a little 
farther away. We all followed, having left the 
path, and this follow-my-leader went on for 
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