THE LAST FRONTIER 



quite likely be one big old fellow, his harem of vary- 

 ing numbers, and the younger subordinate bucks all 

 together in a happy family. When some one of the 

 lot announced that something was about, and they 

 had all lined up to stare in the suspected direction, 

 the big buck was there in the foreground of inquiry. 

 When finally they made me out, it was generally the 

 big buck who gave the signal. He went first, to be 

 sure, but his going first was evidently an act of 

 leadership, and not merely a disgraceful desire to 

 get away before the rest did. 



But the waterbuck had to yield in turn to the 

 plains gazelles; especially to the Thompson's gazelle, 

 familiarly and affectionately known as the 

 "Tommy." He is a quaint little chap, standing 

 only a foot and a half tall at the shoulder, fawn col- 

 our on top, white beneath, with a black, horizontal 

 stripe on his side, like a chipmunk, most lightly and 

 gracefully built. When he was first made, some- 

 body told him that unless he did something char- 

 acteristic, like waggling his little tail, he was likely 

 to be mistaken by the undiscriminating for his big- 

 ger cousin, the Grant's gazelle. He has waggled 

 his tail ever since, and so is almost never mistaken 

 for a Grant's gazelle, even by the undiscriminating. 

 Evidently his religion is Mohammedan, for he al- 

 ways has a great many wives. He takes good care 



94 



