A Thousand Miles in a Machilla 



to definite feeding grounds, where they are easily 

 located by those who know the country. 



Judging from the game we saw, we passed the 

 low country on both sides of Liwonde at the very 

 best period of the year for sport. At Mua, at about 

 the same altitude and only ten days later, we were 

 just too late. But whether it was the increasing heat, 

 or the harvesting of the Mission gardens, or the 

 energy of the good Fathers that had driven the 

 game away, we cannot say; we found nothing. 



In the Chongoni mountain district the season 

 could not have been bettered, though in one portion 

 of it we found game, and in another, equally good 

 to all appearance, we found none. 



On the Shire we could hardly go out without 

 seeing an eland. Between the Bua river and the 

 mountains we saw never a one, although hundreds 

 roam in the forests. They had just quitted their 

 usual haunts and had moved into the hills, driven 

 upwards by the increasing heat and scarcity of 

 water, and we had no one to tell us where to find 

 them. To save time we, unfortunately, avoided 

 Fort Manning. Had we not done so we should 

 have had definite information from a friend quartered 

 there. 



The best method of obtaining sport in the 

 Nyasaland forests is to do what the residents do — 

 viz., employ good hunters, who go out with the 

 local natives and locate game for their masters. 

 Good hunters are, unfortunately, rare. Ours were 

 by no means good — we are not referring to old 

 Saidi — and we soon found out that their idea 



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