The Journal of a Sporting Nomad 



saw that I had not been observed. I therefore 

 made for a small bush that was some sixty 

 yards ahead of me. This was the dangerous 

 part of that stalk, for during this distance I was 

 completely in the open. Whilst the herd fed I 

 painfully crawled by inches towards them at 

 the slightest symptom of a head being raised, 

 I lay prone as though I were a log. Then 

 after what seemed an age I reached the bush. 

 Here I still had to be extremely careful. I was 

 frightfully blown and hot, and scarcely dared 

 breathe ; it was impossible to get any closer, 

 for there was not enough cover between the 

 bush and the herd to have hidden a mouse. I 

 had therefore to take my shot from where I lay. 

 Being still out of breath, my heart thumping 

 wildly, partly with the exertion and partly with 

 excitement, I felt that this state was not con- 

 ducive to good shooting, so I refrained from 

 firing until I collected myself somewhat, em- 

 ploying the time in pushing the rifle very care- 

 fully beyond and beneath the bush. Then 

 taking a deep breath, I covered the centre of the 

 bull's shoulder and pressed the trigger. At the 

 shot he fell to the ground never to rise again, 

 whilst the rest of the herd ran about thirty 

 yards, then pulled up, looking straight at where 

 I lay. I dare not put in another cartridge, for 

 they would have seen the slightest movement. I 

 therefore drew a bead on the chest of the nearest 



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