Notes on South African Hunting. 55 
The death of the Pheasant—The Ogre. 
the ground, and, if possible, when they are not 
looking) and hit one. Thinking he was dead 
I went to pick him up, when, behold, he had 
vanished ! Seeing his tail flick round a bush, 
I rushed after him, and gave him a charge of 
treble A—the first barrel was No. 6. Over he 
rolled, and up he got again, and I had to give 
him another charge of buckshot before I got 
him. That evening we ate a leadmine. Five 
■other pheasants I shot that day—all with 
buckshot—all seemingly dead as David ; not 
one other did I get. 
On the evening of the next day we arrived 
at the village where dwelt the dreaded chief. 
As a present for him we had brought a supply 
•of stertreims ”—a stertreim being a yard- 
and-a-half of coarse calico wherewith these 
idolaters gird themselves. Soon after our 
arrival two of his councillors came down to see 
what manner of men we might be, and, when 
they had left, two more ; and, after them, a tall, 
spare man, of an Egyptian cast of countenance, 
with a voice like a bull buffalo, accompanied 
’by about twenty or thirty people. This was 
•the great Sanzila, chief of about one hundred 
