Hunting Buffalo 66 



him with full force below the belt and knocked 

 him out ; he fell some fifteen feet into a dry ditch 

 full of grass, giving vent to piteous howls in his 

 funk. The other Boers came tearing over our fire, 

 one putting his foot into an antbear hole, shot after 

 Badenhorst into the donga. Then our old Hottentot 

 hunter cried out that it was " only a lion " so I got 

 down from my tree and being then quite awake, 

 went with the Hottentot to where we heard the 

 lion purring in the bush, having helped himself to 

 meat. I shot him, but he was a poor old brute with 

 broken teeth, so we all turned in again in the cold. 

 On the way back to camp next morning, my Scotch 

 staghound, who had been unwell for some days, 

 started barking at a buffalo cow I had wounded and 

 lost the day before. She charged out of some gwarrie 

 bushes where she had been hiding and came after 

 the dog straight before me. I jumped behind a tree 

 and she now " spotted " one of the Bronkhorst lot 

 bolting up an open glade, and gave chase. She had 

 to pass close to me and I gave her an eight to the 

 pound bullet behind the shoulder and dropped her, 

 but poor Bronkhorst kept on sprinting in his un- 

 bleached calico breeches, a sight for sportsmen ; and 

 the harder I shouted to him to stop, the harder he 

 ran, as he thought the cow was still after him. He 

 got such a fright that he decided that it was no place 

 for a simple minded agriculturist in linen trousers, 

 and as they were short of ammunition, and had no 

 horses, they returned home with what meat we gave 

 them. 



I am now ashamed to confess that in two days 

 we shot twenty-two buffalo to three guns, but I was 

 young and thoughtless then and was carried away 

 with excitement. For my own eating I had mostly 

 birds, preferring them to venison, and one had such 

 a varied choice. 



