A Breath from the Veldt 129 



extending to the great Limpopo itself, three days northward, we saw nothing in 

 the shape of animal life, and soon came down again to resume our journey in 

 the direction of Moifontein. There seemed to have been many wart-hogs here, 

 some particular root attracting them to this spot, for the ground was torn up all 

 round the base of these kopjies, showing where they had been moving about in 

 big parties since the last rains. About ten minutes after leaving the hills we 

 encountered another old boar, with his wife and family, standing gazing at us in 

 an open glade, and I ought certainly to have killed him. On my firing he gave 

 a loud squeal of pain and dashed off with the rest ; so both Oom and I thought 

 he was ours. After a bit Oom found some blood, and then a little more ; but 

 it shortly ceased altogether, and as the animal was evidently still galloping we 

 gave up the chase, as he was undoubtedly only slightly wounded and there was 

 little chance of our overtaking him. I felt a bit low after this, fearing I might 

 not get another chance at such a fine old tusker as this. 



On arriving at Moifontein we were pleased to find that no one had 

 outspanned there for many months, and consequently a good deal of game was 

 in the habit of drinking at the pools nightly ; so our hopes rose high at the 

 thought of falling in with koodoo or possibly some sable antelope, a troop of 

 which had been till recently accustomed to drink there. Oom and I therefore, 

 after a hasty meal and changing our horses, started and worked westward for the 

 rest of the day, but without seeing anything. Piet Landsberg, however, fell in 

 with a troop of koodoo in which were two fine old bulls, and had, he said, two 

 good chances at them but failed to score. This is an extraordinary admission 

 for a Dutchman, all of whose bullets are in the habit of striking ; but Piet was 

 not one of that sort ; he had less bombast about him than any Dutchman I after- 

 wards became acquainted with, except of course Van Staden, who was much too 

 good a man to talk rubbish of that sort. Piet afterwards proved the best shot 

 of all of us, though he was much handicapped by losing his horse and having 

 to hunt on foot. Never having had any big game shooting before, when he 

 came home after a bad miss he would sit down by the fire and, sinking into the 

 depths of woe, from which no supper could tempt him, he would bemoan his 

 bad luck, declaring he would never again get a chance at such a beast as that 

 which he had just lost. I wonder who amongst us that has enjoyed the glorious 

 chase of the great creatures of the earth has not experienced poor Piet's 

 sensations, and felt in the depth of his sorrow the degradation he has brought 

 upon himself by that awful and inexcusable miss ! Fortunately the switchback 

 of human sensations brings us back again and again to the pinnacle of hope. 



