The Journal of a Sporting Nomad 



into the hole the bullet had made. On cutting 

 the beast open the boys found my first bullet 

 embedded in the near shoulder-blade. It had 

 gone through one lung and had made a great 

 mess of the shoulder, which, curiously enough, 

 was not broken. The bullet, which I still have, 

 is flattened in at one side of its apex as though 

 it had hit a big bone and then glanced off. I 

 should have thought that at the short range at 

 which I fired the shot the bullet would have 

 gone clean through the beast, and I was dis- 

 appointed at the result. The head that Weddell 

 obtained was an extremely good one, the curves 

 being very pretty and the depth of the frontlet 

 enormous. I did not take off the head of the 

 bull I had killed, as it was hopelessly spoilt by 

 my bad shooting. I sent in the other head to 

 camp whilst we went farther afield before re- 

 turning for home. 



Close to a piece of heavy bush I saw some 

 warthogs in the open, but within fifty yards 

 of cover. We approached them through the 

 timber, getting at last within sixty yards of 

 the nearest, which happened to be the boar, 

 and a large one. Resting the rifle against 

 the trunk of a tree, I fired at this pig, and was 

 rewarded by seeing him roll over kicking, and in 

 a few moments he was dead. My boys soon had 

 his head off after I had marked with my knife 

 the length of neck-skin I required left on the 



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