My first introduction to the zebra in his wild state was in the hilly 
country of Eastern Africa. The native hunters of my party wanted some 
zebra meat, of which they are extremely fond on account of the large 
amount of yellow fat it contains. 
Saddling our best horses, we made an early start. It was ten o’clock, 
however, before we came in sight of our quarry. The herd comprised about 
fifty head and was grazing among a mixed herd of antelope and wild goats. 
A large antelope had been posted as a sentinel and gave warning of our 
approach. The shrill whistle of the antelope blended with the peculiar 
neigh of the zebras, which is a mixture of donkey notes and the subdued 
whining of a dog. 
They started for the higher ground and we followed. At first they ran 
in single file, the stallions ahead, but as we urged our horses faster and 
drew closer they ran more in a bunch. At last one of the natives got a 
shot at a fine young filly and put a bullet in her body near the shoulder. 
She dropped to her knees, but was up again in a flash, and at once obeyed 
a rule in force among these animals by separating from the herd and running- 
off at right angles. The natives pursued her, overtook her and shot her 
down. 
191 
THE STORY OF THE ZEBRA. 
