A GRAND PACK OF HOUNDS. 213 



the trail, one of those impudent but interesting 

 specimens of the ornithology of South Africa, the 

 little honey-bird, most persistently insisted upon my 

 following it. Its demands were so determinedly 

 pressed, that several times it nearly brushed my 

 face with its wings ; so, considering that such for- 

 ward conduct indicated that honey was near, I left 

 the path and followed my volunteer guide. 



I could have done this little more than half 

 a mile when a magnificent bull gemsbok passed me, 

 going at full gallop ; as I did not wish to delay the 

 waggons reaching water, which it would have en- 

 tailed, if the carcass had to be drawn out to the 

 road, I let the noble beast off without drawing a 

 sight on his beauteous flanks. 



Ten minutes after the bull had disappeared - 

 and if he had kept up his running some three miles 

 would have been traversed by him in that time I 

 heard a whimper, then another, and another, till 

 many such notes were mixed up together, and well 

 I knew what was coming, for the sound was as 

 familiar to my ear as the voices of any pack of fox- 

 hounds I have ever ridden to. They were wild 

 dogs, and what a -chance I now had to see their 

 mode of working ! One led, flanked by a comrade 

 on either side, but a little in rear, while the remainder 

 about fifteen were close up, not a skirter, strag- 

 gler, or tailer in the lot. In old hunting parlance, 

 veritably the pack might have been covered with 



