A Breath from the Veldt 145 



and myself had done so unremittingly since the Zoutpansberg, and had only 

 seen a koodoo cow, some wart-hogs, and a couple of klipbucks ! However, 

 though still hopeful, as a hunter must ever be if he means to enjoy himself, I 

 must confess I was a bit disappointed at seeing so little game in the large tract 

 of country we had daily worked over. And now, this very day (6th June), we 

 had our reward. It was a real red-letter day for me, and one I thoroughly 

 enjoyed ; for a koodoo bull — the first I ever killed — fell to my rifle. And who 

 can ever forget the happiness of a moment like that ? 



The country of Mashonaland now became far more interesting from a sport- 

 ing point of view, for there began to appear those great open grass plains, dotted 

 with clumps of dense " wait-a-bit " through which no man or horse could force 

 himself, and which are especially dear to the heart of the koodoo. 



In point of beauty there can be no doubt that the koodoo is the first of ante- 

 lopes ; but in my humble estimation, after having seen and shot several of both 

 species, this grand beast lacks the noble presence of the scimitar-horned sable 

 antelope. The head of the koodoo, seen on the walls of a room, is certainly 

 more pleasing to the eye, and most men would probably favour the fine stuffed 

 specimen in the Natural History Museum at South Kensington, rejoicing in the 

 glory of its coquettish beauty on a bold headland, and looking the master of all 

 it surveys, in preference to the sable, which ambles beside its mate in the 

 humble plains of a glass case close by. But in nature things are somewhat 

 different. The animals have to get along without glass cases, and their move- 

 ment, habit, and surroundings count for something. 



It is the koodoo who is wary, timid, retiring, and humble, and who seldom 

 trusts himself to gaze at you for more than a moment, and then generally from 

 the umbrageous shadow of some dense thicket of wait-a-bit, from which, dash- 

 ing away with a white whisk of his tail and with horns laid almost on his back 

 (not exactly a la "Monarch of the Glen"), retires as quickly and quietly as 

 possible, only perhaps to yield up his frail hold on life with but one poor 

 struggle. How different the sable ! " Grand " and " royal " are the only 

 epithets the hunter would apply to him when he faces an old buck for the first 

 time. The way he carries his head is superb ; and the whole bearing of the 

 animal shows that he is proud of himself, and will fight to the last and die hard 

 — as in fact he always does. 



Naturalists and sportsmen may rejoice that the koodoo holds his own so well, 

 and will do so probably long after all the rest of the big game south of the 

 Zambesi has gone, unless some definite move be at once made towards the 



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