The Journal of a Sporting Nomad 



gone three -parts of the way up this place 

 seeing nothing to shoot except a bushbuck, 

 at which I did not fire, lest I should scare 

 any other game, when Weddell pointed to a 

 black mass at the farther end of the marsh 

 " The big herd of buffalo I told you about," he 

 said. The wind was blowing across our front, 

 the buffalo feeding up-wind, as is their habit. 

 We disappeared in the long grass in the twinkling 

 of an eye, and hurried at our best pace to inter- 

 cept the herd. In these days when the large 

 herds of these grand beasts have been almost 

 exterminated by rinderpest, such a sight as met 

 my eyes a few minutes afterwards was one that 

 probably will never again be seen, for there 

 must have been at least two thousand 

 animals in a mass. They tailed out ten 

 or twenty deep, feeding up alongside the 

 high grass, and extending as far as I could see. 

 The place was literally black with them, and 

 they were feeding slowly in our direction. Here 

 we were hidden securely, and if lucky enough to 

 escape being winded, the herd was bound to pass 

 within thirty yards of our shelter. Both Weddell 

 and I had a "577 Double Magnum Express rifle 

 loaded with a solid hardened bullet. One lives 

 a lifetime in the minutes that pass under such 

 circumstances the excitement, to one who has 

 never shot such a beast, becomes almost painful. 

 At length the leaders were abreast of me, headed 



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