101 
TWO DIANAS IN SOMALILAND 
laming it, causing it to howl terribly, and causing me 
much shame for my unskilled aim. 
I pursued my quarry, because I could not leave it 
out wounded, and overtook it just as it fled into a lair 
of thick adad bushes. Dismounting, I let the pony 
stand, and going to the bushes I stooped down to peer 
in, laying my rifle on the sand. A flare of green eyes 
and snarling teeth, a flat yellow head shot out as a 
snake strikes. My coat sleeve was gripped in a gin of 
white fangs, but only the incisors cut into my flesh — 
caught by the left arm in a flash. Before worse could 
happen I pulled my shikar pistol from my belt, and in 
the tussle — for we neither of us took things lying 
down — the weapon went off anyhow. My enemy sank 
inert, still gripping my sleeve. He was hit mortally, 
and died in a moment or two. My arm began to 
smart a trifle, and I had some difficulty in dragging 
the wolf-creature from its deep-in lair. It was a wolf, 
not large — no bigger than a jackal, and much smaller 
than a hyaena. Its coat was marked with brown, and 
right down the middle of the back was a fine upstand- 
ing length of hair that formed a black-tipped mane or 
ridge. The tail was long and thick, very black on the 
lower part and very yellow at the upper. The fore 
feet were five-toed ; I counted them carefully. 
It was a bit of a struggle to lift the carcase across 
the pony, and I had to walk, holding it on, to the place 
where I left Cecily. She was watching over the 
departed oryx, and vultures sat around her wistfully 
regarding the feast that might have been. In the side 
of the dead antelope an arrow still stabbed, and marks 
