66 BLACK SUCK. 



Further on down country we reached a district teeming with buck, 

 vast herds roaming along both sides of the road. Our commandant 

 borrowed a rifle from me one morning at our halt at " coffee-shop " (as 

 Chotahazree on the march is called), and shot two before we resumed 

 our march, without leaving the road. Another morning we saw a 

 curious specimen, with his horns and the imaginary line from tip to tip 

 forming a perfect equilateral triangle. He was a chocolate colour ; but, 

 for the sake of his horns, I determined to have him. I was on rear 

 guard, and, as the march was resumed, he bolted away, and was lost to 

 sight in the hazy distance, leaving me to abuse my luck. I was about to 

 move off when my syce drew my attention to a buck coming back from 

 the direction the other had gone in ; he said it was the same, and so it 

 was, or his twin brother; he joined his does about 300 yards from the 

 road, and I at once went after him, with my syce leading my pony. 

 There was a big canal running across the road nearly at right angles, so I 

 made a detour, and advanced on him with the canal in his rear. This 

 was sure to give me a cross shot, and he bolted away to the right at a 

 gallop. The '450 rang out with its sharp report, and the buck rolled dead. 

 His horns were about 18in., and a perfect equilateral triangle taken in the 

 way I mentioned. A handy native slung him on his shoulders, and for a 

 modest four annas (barely sixpence) trotted off six miles to camp. 



I had often heard of this district, but had never seen heads over 18in. 

 out of it in years agone ; so one day I determined I would make a regular 

 effort, and shoot only really good heads. I started off alone on my pony, 

 with rifle slung on the right shoulder, butt downwards (in the manner 

 recommended on page 18), and soon came to a wide and rapid-flowing 

 canal. No bridge was to be seen ; so I turned down stream, and moved 

 into the country about a quarter of a mile from the bank. Presently I 

 saw a large herd of bucks and does perhaps three or four hundred 

 but my binoculars could show no horns over 18in., as well as I could 

 judge, so I rode on. I saw another large herd a mile further on, and 

 found one buck with a decidedly good head. I rode as near as I dare 

 and, having dismounted, passed the bridle over my arm and circled round. 

 The buck had a great bee in him somewhere, and kept running about after 

 the smaller fry, so that sometimes I saw him, but more often he was 

 hidden by the herd. I got within about 150 yards, knelt down under the 

 pony's nose, and next time he came round managed to plant a bullet from 

 the '450 just behind his right shoulder. He dropped, and the herd bolted, 

 unmolested, as the next heads were not good enough. He was dead when 

 I reached him, but being alone I hallaled him (cut his throat), removed 

 his interior (gralloched him, in Scotch), and then rode about until I found 

 a willing native, who started off to camp with him. I suppose camp was 

 six miles away, and the presence of troops unknown to the native, yet he 

 hurried off most cheerfully at once, on the chance of backsheesh. These 

 horns were a little over 20in. 



After such success, I rode on for some time without seeing anything 



