220 A Breath from the Veldt 



smell of a dead animal attracted our attention, and following our noses, we 

 came presently upon the body of a magnificent waterbuck ram lying beneath 

 a spreading malala. The poor beast had evidently been wounded in the 

 shoulder by a native " paving-stone " bullet, and had wandered about some 

 time before it had succumbed, for it was simply all skin and bone. Its 

 horns, however, both in size and shape, were as fine as any I have ever seen ; 

 so, though I do not as a rule keep any heads in my collection that I have 

 not shot myself, this being exceptionally valuable I determined to bring it 

 home. And a very nasty job it was to get it off — a whole hour's work on an 

 animal that had been dead about a week. The head measures 33f inches along 

 the horn. 



25M 'June. — Trekked five miles down the river, as there was a suspicion of 

 " fly " higher up ; and while we were away that young monkey Pompoom 

 must needs try to make a cooking fire amongst the big grass by the waggon, 

 the result of which was that he set the camp in a blaze. Luckily, Prince and 

 Teenie (who never hunt) were on the spot, and managed to save the waggons. 

 As it was, my saddle, bridle, and several smaller things, with some skins, were 

 burnt. The grass is so dry and inflammable at this season that the whole 

 forest can be set alight with a match when a slight breeze is blowing. Lions 

 heard last night again. During the day they hide in dense river thickets, and 

 a big pack of curs would be the only thing to hunt them out. 



The following week was almost a blank so far as I was concerned, for the 

 beasts we met with were not what I wanted. I got a waterbuck, however, 

 and another very fine old wart-hog that was as tame as a farmyard pig, and Van 

 Staden captured several waterbuck ewes and a pallah. I also had a fair chance 

 of a splendid sable bull, and had little excuse for missing it. 



One day we saw the Basadanotes again. They were leaving the Nuanetsi 

 and going back to the Transvaal, and we learned from them that Cos Van 

 Staden (Oom Roelef 's cousin) had got first run-in at the big herd of buffaloes on 

 the other side of the river, and killed nine one afternoon. His nephew, who 

 was with them, presented a most wild and pitiable appearance, having about 

 ten days ago narrowly escaped with his life. He had been hunting with his 

 uncle, and one day being out alone, he lost his way to camp— a common 

 occurrence even with experienced hunters. For nearly a week he wandered 

 about, half dead with thirst, till at last he struck the river again, and so found 

 his way to the young Basadanotes' camp. The unfortunate young man had 

 subsisted almost entirely on locusts and wild honey, which he obtained by 



