quietly ; so hoping for another chance we started off 

 at a trot along the fresh spoor. 



A big koodoo bull stands as high as a bullock, and 

 although they have the small shapely feet of an ante- 

 lope the spoor is heavy enough to follow at a trot 

 except on stony ground. Perhaps they know this, 

 for they certainly prefer the rough hard ground when 

 they can get it. We went along at a good pace, but 

 with many short breaks to make sure of the spoor in 

 the stony parts ; and it was pretty hot work, although 

 clothing was light for hunting. A rough flannel shirt, 

 open at the throat, and moleskin trousers dyed with 

 coffee for khaki was unknown to us then was the 

 usual wear ; and we carried as little as possible. Gen- 

 erally a water-bottle filled with unsweetened cold tea 

 and a cartridge belt were all we took besides the rifle. 

 This time I had less than usual. Meaning to be out 

 only for a couple of hours at most and to stick close to 

 the road, I had pocketed half a dozen cartridges and 

 left both bandolier and water-bottle behind. 



It was not long before we came upon the koodoo 

 again ; but they were on the watch. They were 

 standing in the fringe of some thick bush, broadside 

 on but looking back full at us, and as soon as I stopped 

 to aim the whole lot disappeared with the same easy 

 movement, just melting away in the bush. 



If I had only known it, it was a hopeless chase for 

 an inexperienced hunter : they were simply playing 

 with me. The very things that seemed so encouraging 

 to me would have warned an old hand that running 

 on the trail was quite useless. When they moved 



