THE SABLE 



A BOUT three o'clock I began to feel rested and 

 l\. ambitious. Therefore I called up our elegant 

 guide and Memba Sasa, and set out on my first hunt 

 for sable. F. was rather more done up by the hard 

 morning, and so did not go along. The guide wore 

 still his red tarboosh, his dark short jacket, his saffron 

 yellow nether garment — it was not exactly a skirt — 

 and his silver-headed rattan cane. The only change 

 he made was to tuck up the skirt, leaving his long 

 legs bare. It hardly seemed altogether a suitable 

 costume for hunting; but he seemed to know what 

 he was about. 



We snooped along ridges, and down into ravines, 

 and across gulleys choked with brush. Horrible 

 thickets alternated and occasionally surrounded 

 open green meadows hanging against the sidehills. 

 As we proceeded the country became rougher, the 

 ravines more precipitous. We struggled up steep 

 hills, fairly bucking our way through low growth 

 that proved all but impenetrable. The idea was to 



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