BUCK KILLED BY A LEOPARD. 291 



The monotony of this night was broken by one of those 

 events that must, and do, frequently take place every- 

 where, and in many cases without the natural excuse that 

 could be pleaded here, "it was the weak oppressed and 

 crushed by the strong." 



A red bush-buck had gone out into an open glade, and 

 was quietly taking its dew-refreshed grass supper. I had 

 noticed for some time the innocent way in which it had 

 continued grazing, quite unconscious that a deadly enemy 

 was near, who only refrained from slaying it in the hope 

 that larger game would, by patience, be soon substituted. 

 Suddenly a black looking sort of shadow with a bound was 

 upon it a shriek, an instant struggle, and all was quiet. 

 My Kaffir whispered to me that he thought we should 

 fire, as leopards' skins were valuable for making tails (the 

 Kaffirs' waist-dress is thus called by the colonists) . This 

 whisper was not sufficient to cause alarm, but while moving 

 a little to cock his gun, the Kaffir shook a branch, and the 

 representative of the feline race, taking up his capture, 

 bounded away. We inspected the ground on the following 

 morning and found that there had scarcely been a struggle. 



One is frequently curiously attended in Africa by strange 

 followers, and I found myself one night with a footman 

 behind me that might have struck terror into a lady's 

 heart were John Thomas to be thus suddenly trans- 

 formed. Happening to be at the house famous for the 

 leopard's visit, and going out at about ten o'clock to 

 saddle my horse that I had tied to a tree in the garden, I 

 found him absent; and upon inquiring at the Kaffirs' 

 kraal near> they told me that he had broken his halter 



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