THE BUFFALO 



ter's delicate task to glide and crawl here and there, 

 with due regard for sight, scent and sound, until he 

 has picked one of these from the scores of undesir- 

 ables. Many times will he worm his way by inches 

 toward the great black bodies half defined in the 

 screen of thick undergrowth only to find that he 

 has stalked cows or small bulls. Then inch by inch 

 he must back out again, unable to see twenty yards 

 to either side, guiding himself by the probabilities 

 of the faint chance breezes in the thicket. To right 

 and left he hears the quiet continued crop, crop, crop, 

 sound of animals grazing. The sweat runs down his 

 face in streams, and blinds his eyes, but only occa- 

 sionally and with the utmost caution can he raise his 

 hand — or, better, lower his head — to clear his 

 vision. When at last he has withdrawn from the 

 danger zone, he wipes his face, takes a drink from the 

 canteen, and tries again. Sooner or later his pres- 

 ence comes to the notice of some old cow. Be- 

 hind the leafy screen where unsuspected she has 

 been standing comes the most unexpected and heart- 

 jumping crash! Instantly the jungle all about roars 

 into life. The great bodies of the alarmed beasts 

 hurl themselves through the thicket, smash! hang! 

 crash! smash! as though a tornado were uprooting the 

 forest. Then abruptly a complete silence! This 

 lasts but ten seconds or so; then off rushes the wild 



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