36 IN AFRICA 



straightway begins a careful stalk of many hun- 

 dred yards. At last, after much patient work, he 

 reaches a point where he feels that he can chance a 

 shot. He takes a careful sight and at that moment 

 a kongoni that has been silently watching him from 

 some place or other gives the alarm, and away goes 

 the trophy beyond reach of a bullet. And then how 

 the hunter curses at the kongoni, who has stopped 

 some little distance away and is regarding him with 

 that quaint, lugubriously funny look. It almost 

 seems to be laughing at him. 



One day I tried to shoot a topi. It was a broiling 

 hot day and the sun hung dead above and drove its 

 burning javelins into me as I crept along. For 

 seven hundred yards, on hands and knees, I slowly 

 and painfully made my way. The grass wore 

 through the knees of my trousers and the sharp 

 stubbles cut my palms; once a snake darted out of 

 a clump of grass just as my hand was descending 

 upon it, and lizards frequently shot away within a 

 yard of my nose. My neck was nearly broken from 

 looking forward while on my hands and knees, and 

 it was nearly an hour of creeping progress that I 

 spent while stalking that topi. 



When I got within two hundred and fifty yards, 

 and was just ready to take a careful aim, with an 

 ant-hill as a rest, a kongoni somewhere gave the 

 alarm, and away went the topi, safe and sound but 

 badly scared. The kongoni went a little way off 

 and then turned and grinned broadly. I was mo- 

 mentarily tempted to shoot him, but on second 



