50 PEACE: LION HUNTING 



became my chief mount was very much better 

 than nothing, for I was not yet strong enough 

 to walk more than a mile or so at a time. 



One day I got a grand eland bull, luckily quite 

 close at hand, and so big that it took two pack-ox 

 loads and eleven boy loads to bring the meat into 

 camp. Its dressed weight could hardly have 

 been less than 1,100 lb. This eland meat was 

 enormously fat, especially on the brisket, but yet 

 was not at all coarse. In fact it was exactly like 

 that of a big prime bullock, and, in my experience, 

 the eland is by far the best buck meat there is. 

 The eland can, perhaps, claim to share with the 

 moose the sovereignty of the deer tribe. 



The health of Joe and my Kaffir driver was 

 poor at this season, and as both men seemed very 

 homesick and in low spirits, I decided to send 

 them to their respective homes. Their going left 

 me quite alone in my camp, save for my local 

 boys, and the solitude, of necessity, made me begin 

 to pick up more quickly the native language. 

 As a matter of fact, I particularly desired to 

 master, at least to a slight extent, the bushman 

 speech, that extraordinary though not altogether 

 unmusical language of clicks. 



The weather was by this time glorious, the nights 

 cool and the days warm and bright. The grass 

 was drying very rapidly, and I was able to burn 

 patches in the neighbourhood of my camp, so 

 that the early green spring in the grass might 

 bring the buck on to the freshly burnt feed near 



