50 THROUGH ANGOLA 



The giant sable skull which we carried had 

 been borrowed with some difficulty from a trader 

 in Melanje, who said that it had been left with 

 him by a professional hunter who had shot the 

 sable at a place called " Cangandalla," some 

 15 miles to the south of Melanje. 



Knowing from experience how much easier 

 it is to show a picture than describe an animal, 

 I had come prepared from England with a number 

 of photographs of sable and other antelopes, for 

 identification among the natives, but when the 

 sable skull was found at Melanje, I realized how 

 much better it would be to have the real thing 

 than a picture. 



We had started, the last load had been lifted, 

 and the road directions given. My heart was 

 singing the song of the open road, and Walt 

 Whitman could not have sung it with more 

 joyousness. 



The first marching day of any expedition should 

 be a happy one, and in this case the march was 

 something that had been lived over and dreamed 

 of for five long years. Marching well ahead of my 

 men, I skipped like any schoolboy the moment I 

 was out of their sight ; for it would never have done 

 to let a native see one skip. 



The early morning of an African winter or 

 spring is perfect in its freshness, and the dawn 

 lights of the African highlands are very beautiful. 

 To see the purple colour of the hills change to rose 

 as the sun rises, and the black of the forests to 

 green as the sunlight touches the leaves, is to 

 live in I he land of the beautiful. From grass. 



