352 The Hunting Grounds 



give you an account of my first lion. I was rusti- 

 cating at Natal, with an old chum who had given up 

 the service to turn settler, a little way up-country, 

 and was ahout to convert his sword into a pruning- 

 hook, when one day, as we were sitting under a mat 

 awning in front of the house smoking our manillas 

 after breakfast, a Dutch pedlar, of the name of 

 Vanderhalt (a well-known character in that colony), 

 came up and informed us that he had seen a herd 

 of spring-buck in the Berere, a large belt of jungle 



some few miles distant. S , who was also very 



fond of sport, gave him some tea and a bundle of 

 cheroots, provided he would accompany us and show 

 us their trail, and mounting our nags we set out with 

 our guns and rifles, and, after a ride of five hours, 

 came upon the slots of the herd. These animals, 

 which take their name from the amazing springs 

 they make over bushes, or any obstruction that lies 

 in their path, are rather less than the common deer 

 and about the same colour, with a white stripe on 

 each side, and a black stripe or mane along the back, 

 which they have the power of closing or expanding. 

 They are sometimes caught with greyhounds, but it 

 takes a good dog to run them down. Confident in 

 their fleetness, it is very amusing to see the contemp- 

 tuous way in which they treat their pursuers ; as they 

 allow them to come near, and then, giving a bound 

 and a snort, expand the hair on their backs, and 



