A Thousand Miles in a Machilla 



Whenever there was a prospect of seeing game 



A usually started half an hour or so ahead of 



the caravan, and walked for a time, leaving his 

 machilla to follow. I always remained behind 

 until the loads were ready; but as the jog-trot of 

 my machilla boys soon outdistanced the porters, I 



generally sighted A s party before going very 



far. We had to keep a sharp look-out when nearing 



A , to see that there was no game afoot; and if 



he was actually stalking, stop and hide the machilla 

 and team as best we could. The machilla boys 

 gave me no trouble, as they quickly realized that 

 their meat depended on their keeping quiet. 



On the morning of the 9th — a red-letter day in 



the annals of our expedition — A was on the 



road by 6.15 a.m., and when I joined him half an 

 hour later I found that he had just shot a splendid 

 kudu bull. He and his party had been walking 

 quietly along, the machilla and its team well in the 

 rear, when the bull, accompanied by two cows, 

 walked quite suddenly out of the forest about four 



hundred yards ahead. Fortunately A was able 



to get behind a friendly ant-heap with his followers 

 before he was perceived. The wind was favourable; 

 and the kudu seeing nothing, proceeded to walk 

 quietly across the dambo, feeding as they went. 

 Another ant-heap assisted a quick stalk to a rather 

 easier distance, and a right and left shot finished the 

 transaction. 



To utilize the long wait entailed by skinning and 

 cutting up of the poor beast we established ourselves 

 under a tree and had our breakfast unusually early. 



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