The Journal of a Sporting Nomad 
from the vicinity of the water. Weddell told 
me that it was a hippo—the mate of the one I 
had shot, who was calling for him. The sound 
was immense, and no wonder, when one recalls 
what a cavernous gap of a mouth and throat the 
noise emanates from. Anyhow, the beast kept 
up the music for the greater part of the night, 
making things hideous and preventing my sleep- 
ing. In connexion with this animal, Weddell 
told me he believed that they were mono- 
gamous, pairing for life, until one was killed. 
I do not know what truth there is in 
this, but quote his dictum for what it is 
worth. 
Early next morning I took some boys and 
proceeded to the spot where [I had shot at my 
hippo the previous evening, but not a sign of it 
could we find, although we searched the banks 
for many hundreds of yards, which were more or 
less bare, and could not have provided cover for 
so large a beast had it been floating near them. 
I was naturally vexed, for I had not killed one 
of these monsters before, and I wanted to take 
off the head as a trophy. That I hit him mor- 
tally, I am convinced, and that he did not rise _ 
to the surface anywhere within the hundred ~ 
yards on either side of us, I am also sure of, for 7 
I remained on the spot for quite thirty minutes — 
before I decided to return to camp. What 
became of him is a mystery, for I never found, 
126 
