66 TALES OF A NOMAD. 



I have never opened the skull of one to verify this, but 

 T have seen what is almost as extraordinary, viz., in the 

 forelock of an eland bull a small green snake which 

 sometimes takes up its residence there. 



On our arrival at Gumban we found they had been hav- 

 ing good sport, but that some of the troops of buffaloes, 

 worried by the continuous shooting, had crossed over the 

 Libombo Range and had gone down to Amatongaland. 



Up to date I had killed twenty-eight buffaloes, and 

 made up my mind to hunt at Gumban until I had killed 

 forty. The first night of our arrival at Gumban was an 

 exceedingly enjoyable one, and we sat up until past 

 midnight recounting mutual experiences since we had 

 parted. The hour of sundown in a hunting camp is 

 always pleasant, for then it is that the hunters return 

 one by one, and laying aside their rifles gather round the 

 fire to relate the events of the day. Nor are such 

 gatherings devoid of the comic element. 



I remember once having in our party a young and 

 very inexperienced Englishman, who invariably returned 

 without a kill, but who by his own account must have 

 done a terrific amount of wounding. Nearly everything 

 he fired at was very hard hit, but somehow or other 

 always managed to get away. He used to bring home 

 blades of grass with spots of blood upon them as 

 vouchers for the correctness of his aim. He fired from 

 the right shoulder, and as his left eye was the strongest 

 of the two, I fear he never could become a rifleman. 

 He was moreover a most dangerous adversary towards 

 humans with his rifle. One day I determined to show 

 him some sport, and asked him to accompany me, to 

 which he gladly consented. I observed that he handled 

 his rifle in a peculiar way. He would carry it at full 



