The Journal of a Sporting Nomad 
into the hole the bullet had made. On cutting 
the beast open the boys found my first bullet 
embedded in the near shoulder-blade. It had 
gone through one lung and had made a great 
mess of the shoulder, which, curiously enough, 
was not broken. The bullet, which I still have, 
is flattened in at one side of its apex as though 
it had hit a big bone and then glanced off. I 
should have thought that at the short range at 
which I fired the shot the bullet would have 
gone clean through the beast, and I was dis- 
appointed at the result. The head that Weddell 
obtained was an extremely good one, the curves 
being very pretty and the depth of the frontlet 
enormous. I did not take off the head of the 
bull I had killed, as it was hopelessly spoilt by 
my bad shooting. I sent in the other head to 
camp whilst we went farther afield before re- 
turning for home. 
Close to a piece of heavy bush I saw some 
warthogs in the open, but within fifty yards 
of cover. We approached them through the 
timber, getting at last within sixty yards of 
the nearest, which happened to be the boar, 
and a large one. Resting the rifle against 
the trunk of a tree, I fired at this pig, and was 
rewarded by seeing him roll over kicking, and in 
a few moments he was dead. My boys soon had 
his head off after I had marked with my knife 
the length of neck-skin I required left on the 
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