60 THE bard's praises of the hunter. 



while I with the other returned to camp, and sent out 

 plenty of hands to assist in carrying home their sup- 

 per. Not having brought any water with me, nor hav- 

 ing calculated on such a long run, or such ex- 

 citing sport, I was almost choked with thirst before 

 I got back ; and finding the rest of the party at tea, 

 I soon disposed of a couple of large basins of it. And 

 never did I enjoy a " cup of tea " more. 



In the course of a couple of hours men began to ar- 

 rive, some carrying the hind quarter of a buffalo, some 

 large portions of flesh. At last came the heads, which 

 were laid at the door of my hut ; and dancing, 

 singing, and gorging prevailed during the night, one of 

 the men who carried my spare gun fiever ceasing to 

 sing my praises all night long. " This man," he said, 

 " doesn't fear the buffalo. When we felt inclined to 

 run away he ran at them by himself, and all the buf- 

 faloes ran from him. We never had a man like this 

 before, who would give us so much meat for one meal!" 

 And then they would all sing a chorus about two buf- 

 faloes with long and strong horns being dead. This 

 lasted all night. 



Early next morning I started in the hope of finding 

 the wounded buck, or of getting another shot. The 

 sun had not yet risen when Moloka and I quietly left 

 the camp and its sleeping inmates. The natives having 

 satisfied their ravenous appetites, and exhausted their 

 singing and dancing propensities, lay on the ground 

 sleeping beside numerous small fires, over whose 

 embers many a stout lump of buffalo meat transfixed 

 with a bamboo stood drying. I could not help pity- 

 ing these poor creatures, some of them not being in 



