HERDS OF GAME 9 



a herd of donkeys, and the more credible story of 

 the unhappy lion-hunter who slept at his post in 

 the railway-carriage, and was carried out of the 

 window and eaten by the very lion he went out to 

 slay. One story-teller, with a greater gift of imagi- 

 nation than the others, even w^ent so far as to point 

 out the scratches made by the lion in its departure. 

 Night fell during the course of these narrations, 

 and my sleep was disturbed several times by the 

 imagined tugging and roaring of lions, only to find 

 that it was the sudden jolt of the train as it stopped, 

 or the shriek of the engine as we started laboriously 

 uphill again. 



The sun rose over a very different scene. Dust 

 and rocks and scrub were left behind ; instead we 

 looked for miles over rolling plains of short grass, 

 which recalled very vividly the prairies of Manitoba. 

 Scattered over the plain were various moving 

 objects that looked like cattle, but as the light grew 

 stronger we saw their hideous faces, and knew that 

 they were herds of hartebeeste. I had always 

 imagined before that the accounts I had read of the 

 marvellous quantities of game to be seen from the 

 line were either a mendacious advertisement of 

 the railway to attract unwary globe-trotters, or else 

 the reminiscences of travellers who had passed 

 along that way before the railway was ever thought 

 of; but it would be almost impossible to exaggerate 

 the amazing swarms of game that are to be seen 

 on every side. There is a strip of land a mile wide 



