KLIPSPRINGER SHOOTING. 75 



led US to a tiny waterhole, called Wilde Paard's 

 Fontein (zebra's fountain), where formerly large 

 numbers of zebras drank. These beautiful creatures 

 were, at the time I write of, alas ! reduced to a small 

 herd of eight or ten, which still lingered in the 

 remotest parts of the mountains in this locality. 

 Greatly to our disappointment, for the sun was hot, 

 and we were all athirst, this drinking place was dry ; 

 there had been a long drought, and the fountain now 

 held nothing but hard-baked mud. Retracing our 

 steps, we sought another part of the hills, and after 

 a long scramble and another tramp along the flat 

 grassy top of the mountain, we put up three more 

 klipspringers that were feeding among some huge 

 boulders littering the ground towards the edge of the 

 mountain wall. The antelopes were off and away 

 like lightning, and although Bob and Frank, who were 

 nearest, each emptied two barrels at a hundred and a 

 hundred and thirty yards, the odds were too great ; 

 the buck dodged in and out of the masses of rock in 

 the most marvellous fashion, and were quickly over 

 the cliff and far away. 



It was a pretty sight, and we in the rear 

 thoroughly enjoyed it, much as we sympathised with 

 the rather exasperated gunners. Here we rested 

 and ate a morsel, dry though we were, and as luck 

 would have it, while looking down the hillside below 

 us, we espied some water standing in the deep 

 smooth fleshy leaves of a great aloe beneath. After 

 some trouble, we managed to convey the contents of 

 some of these leaves into the outside of the deep 

 crown of one of our broad-brimmed felt hats, and 

 thus partially slaked our thirst. Seated up here 

 on the edge of the mountain, we commanded a 



