ram clearing the first of the dense thorn bushes that 

 were to have been my cover in stalking. He flew over 

 it outlined against the sky in the easiest most graceful 

 and most perfect curve imaginable. It came back 

 to me afterwards that he was eight or ten yards from 

 me, and yet I had to look up into the sky to see his 

 white chest and gracefully gathered feet as he cleared 

 the thorn bush like a soaring bird. 



One shot, out of three or four fired in desperation 

 as they were melting away, hit something ; the un- 

 mistakable thud of the bullet told me so. That time 

 it was the real thing, and when you hear the real thing 

 you cannot mistake it. The wounded animal went 

 off with the rest and I followed, with Jock ahead 

 of me hot on the trail. A hundred yards further on 

 where Jock with his nose to the ground had raced 

 along between some low stones and a marula tree I 

 came to a stop bush all round me, not a living thing 

 in sight, and all as silent as the grave. On one of the 

 smooth hot stones there was a big drop of blood, and 

 a few yards on I found a couple more. Here and there 

 along the spoor there were smears on the long yellow 

 grass, and it was clear enough, judging by the height 

 of the blood-marks from the ground, that the impala 

 was wounded in the body probably far back, as there 

 were no frothy bubbles to show a lung shot. I knew 

 that it would be a long chase unless Jock could head 

 the buck off and bay it ; but unless he could do this 

 at once, he was so silent in his work that there was 

 little chance of finding him. The trail became more 

 and more difficult to follow ; the blood was less 



