244 



A Breath from the Veldt 



of those occasions when I longed for a camera, for only a photograph could give 

 the reader a correct impression of this strange sight. 



The following evening the donkeys were about done up, for we had been 

 travelling all the previous afternoon without a drop of water either for man or 

 beast. What was worse, too, there seemed to be no chance of finding any in 

 this part of the world. Still the fresh waggon spoor we were following must 

 lead, we thought, to water, however distant, and in that hope we pressed on. 



Just at sunset, as the light was waning, the old man and I were walking 

 along ahead of the waggon, when quite suddenly we came on a herd of sable 



THE PACE IS HOT FOR THE FIRST MILE 



antelopes. There was, as usual, one old bull and about twenty-five cows, and 

 for the first time since we left the Limpopo my rifle was not in my hand, as I 

 had given up all hope of seeing anything that evening. But in sport (as I ought 

 to have remembered) it is always the unexpected that happens. I hastened to 

 retrieve the loss by running back for Brenke and the rifle, but it was too late. 

 When I returned the beasts were gone, and I found Oom running over the 

 Veldt, anathematising the toughness of sable antelopes in general, and two in 

 particular, which he had fired at and wounded. As the country was open, we 

 followed the herd again, and got a few shots at about 300 yards, but without 

 any result worth recording. 



