The Journal of a Sporting Nomad 



from the vicinity of the water. Weddell told 

 me that it was a hippo the mate of the one I 

 had shot, who was calling for him. The sound 

 was immense, and no wonder, when one recalls 

 what a cavernous gap of a mouth and throat the 

 noise emanates from. Anyhow, the beast kept 

 up the music for the greater part of the night, 

 making things hideous and preventing my sleep- 

 ing. In connexion with this animal, Weddell 

 told me he believed that they were mono- 

 gamous, pairing for life, until one was killed. 

 I do not know what truth there is in 

 this, but quote his dictum for what it is 

 worth. 



Early next morning I took some boys and 

 proceeded to the spot where I had shot at my 

 hippo the previous evening, but not a sign of it 

 could we find, although we searched the banks 

 for many hundreds of yards, which were more or 

 less bare, and could not have provided cover for 

 so large a beast had it been floating near them. 

 I was naturally vexed, for I had not killed one 

 of these monsters before, and I wanted to take 

 off the head as a trophy. That I hit him mor- 

 tally, I am convinced, and that he did not rise 

 to the surface anywhere within the hundred 

 yards on either side of us, I am also sure of, for 

 I remained on the spot for quite thirty minutes 

 before I decided to return to camp. What 

 became of him is a mystery, for I never found, 



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