XIV 

 A DAY ON THE ISIOLA 



EARLY one morning — we were still on the 

 Isiola — we set forth on our horses to ride 

 across the rolling, brush-grown plain. Our inten- 

 tion was to proceed at right angles to our own little 

 stream until we had reached the forest growth of 

 another, which we could dimly make out eight or 

 ten miles distant. Billy went with us, so there were 

 four a-horseback. Behind us trudged the gun- 

 bearers, and the syces, and after them straggled a 

 dozen or fifteen porters. 



The sun was just up, and the air was only tepid 

 as yet. From patches of high grass whirred and 

 rocketed grouse of two sorts. They were so much 

 like our own ruffed grouse and prairie chicken that I 

 could with no effort imagine myself once more a 

 boy in the coverts of the Middle West. Only before 

 us we could see the stripes of trotting zebra disap- 

 pearing; and catch the glint of light on the bayonets 

 of the oryx. Two giraffes galumphed away to the 

 right. Little grass antelope darted from clump to 



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