THE FIRST GAME CAMP 



This, then, might be called our first Shooting 

 Camp. Heretofore we had travelled every day. 

 Now the boys settled down to what the native por- 

 ter considers the height of bliss: a permanent camp 

 with plenty to eat. 



Each morning we were off before daylight, riding 

 our horses, and followed by the gunbearers, the syces, 

 and fifteen or twenty porters. The country rose 

 from the river in a long gentle slope grown with 

 low brush and scattered candlestick euphorbias. 

 This slope ended in a scattered range of low rocky 

 buttes. Through any one of the various openings 

 between them, we rode to find ourselves on the bor- 

 ders of an undulating grass country of low rounded 

 hills with wide valleys winding between them. In 

 these valleys and on these hills was the game. 



Daylight of the day I would tell about found us 

 just at the edge of the little buttes. Down one of 

 the slopes the growing half light revealed two oryx 

 feeding, magnificent big creatures, with straight 

 rapier horns three feet in length. These were most 

 exciting and desirable, so off my horse I got and be- 

 gan to sneak up on them through the low tufts of 

 grass. They fed quite calmly. I congratulated my- 

 self, and slipped nearer. Without even looking in 

 my direction, they trotted away. Somewhat cha- 

 grined, I returned to my companions, and we rode on. 



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