204 A Breath from the Veldt 



Here was luck for us ; nothing better could have happened. We galloped 

 up to the base of the hill, jumped off, ran up a few disjointed boulders, and 

 then looked over, when a sight presented itself to my eyes which I shall never 

 forget while I live. There, not 50 yards off, standing and gazing with their 

 usual aspect of royalty and fearlessness, was a splendid troop of sable antelopes 

 — about thirty cows, and the old bull which we had previously viewed ! 

 Nothing on the Veldt looks so truly regal and imposing as a troop of these 

 antelopes. The shine on their coats, the flash of their dusty horns, and the 

 noble carriage of their heads, all tend to give them an air of beauty greater 

 than that of any wild creature I have ever seen. Here they were, for the 

 first time, within easy shot, and accompanied by an old warrior whose trophy 

 was well worth winning. Whether so grand and sudden a discovery gave me 

 a temporary relapse into buck fever, and so disturbed my aim, I know not ; 

 but the old bull at whom I fired merely took two or three steps forward and 

 then halted again, while the troop of cows began to string out and move 

 slowly away. In a moment I got another cartridge in, and let drive again at 

 the bull as he commenced to move. There was no doubt about my second 

 shot, for one of his hind legs instantly swung to one side and became useless. 

 Van Staden and I now sat down on the rocks, and each selecting a cow, fired 

 several shots. The Dutchman's second shot floored his beast ; but she got 

 up again, and made after the retreating herd with all speed. All this, though 

 it takes some time to tell, was but the work of a few seconds, at the end of 

 which we mounted our horses again and rode off in hot pursuit. The bull 

 took a line by himself, showing that he was badly hit, and Pointer, the old 

 dog who had accompanied us, took up his spoor, and galloped along ahead 

 of me, whilst Van Staden followed the cows on the right for some distance. 

 By and by Pointer ran clean away from me, and disappeared in the tall trees 

 ahead, where I presently heard him baying with all his might — a sure sign 

 that he had brought the beast to a standstill. On passing into a beautiful 

 glade, a sight presented itself that no sportsman could fail to appreciate. 

 There stood the grand old fellow, with his glossy hide and splendid horns, 

 looking the picture of defiance. He was standing with his back to a tree 

 and anon slashing to right and left with his scimitar-like horns as the old 

 dog came near him. On seeing me he immediately lay down — as, I have 

 noticed, a sable generally does when wounded and capable of defending himself 

 — so as to secure a complete sweep of his horns along the back, and render 

 all approaches dangerous. The grass here was very high, and I could only 



