A Breath from the Veldt 



331 



really approaching my ambush. That wait, though probably not more than a 

 minute, seems endless as I keep my eyes fixed on the one old bull who stands out 

 by himself at the tail of the string. Now do I bless that foremost cow as she 

 swings round towards me, immediately followed by the rest of the troop at 

 open order. Now is the moment of supreme excitement. I lie glued flat to 

 the ground, not daring to move. On they come, and I see that it will be quite 

 safe to drop the 200 yard flap and prepare for a close shot. However, eighty 

 yards is quite near enough, as both rest and position are good, and the animals 



BLACK WILDEBEEST COWS EVICTING AN UNPOPULAR BULL FROM THE HERD 



would stampede if they came a yard nearer. The rifle creeps up the side of 

 the ant-heap, and I worm myself slowly into a comfortable position facing the 

 master of the herd, just as a loud metallic snort from one of the leading cows 

 proclaims the presence of danger. All one's physical forces are strained to the 

 utmost to subdue the tumultuous beating of the heart and concentrate one's 

 mind on the need of perfect steadiness at this critical moment, and it is with 

 intense satisfaction that one finds that all is well immediately the trigger is 

 pressed. The wildebeests are now flying in all directions, but the old bull is 

 still there facing me, rapping with all four legs on the hard ground, and trying 

 to withstand the shock he has just received. The wound is a mortal one ; but 



