In Wildest Africa 



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looking down upon the extensive, scantily-wooded slopes. 

 Are we going to bag our game to-day ? 



I could produce an African day-book made up of 

 high hopes and disappointments. Not, indeed, that re- 

 turning empty-handed meant ill-humour and disappoint- 

 ment, or that I expected invariable good luck. But a day 

 out in the tropics counts for at least a week in Europe, and 

 I like to make the most of it. Then, too, I had to reserve 

 my hunting for those hours when I could give myself up 

 to it body and soul. How often while I have been on the 

 march at the head of heavily laden caravans have the most 

 tempting opportunities presented themselves to me, only 

 to be resisted — fine chances for the record-breaker and 

 irresponsible shot, but merely tantalising to me ! 



On we go through the wilderness, still upwards. I am 

 the first European in these regions, which have much of 

 novelty for my eyes. The great lichen-hung trees, the 

 dense jungle, the wide plains, all charm me. The heat 

 becomes more and more oppressive, and I and my 

 followers are beginning to feel its effects. We are weary- 

 ing for a halt, but we must lose no time, for we have still 

 a long way before us, whether we return to our main camp 

 or press onwards to that wooded hollow yonder, four hours' 

 march away, there to spend the night. 



A vast panorama has been opening out in front of us. 

 We have reached the summit of this first range of hills, 

 and are looking down on another deep and extensive valley. 

 My field-glasses enable me to descry in the far distance 

 a herd of eland making their way down the hill, and two 

 bush-buck grazing hard by a thicket. But these have 



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