172 
AFRICAN GAME TRAILS 
walking; stalking was an impossibility, and I was pre¬ 
pared either to manoeuvre for a shot on foot, or to ride 
them, as circumstances might determine. I carried the 
little Springfield, being desirous of testing the small, solid, 
sharp-pointed army bullet on the big beasts. As I rode, 
a wildebeest bull played around me within two hundred 
yards, prancing, flourishing his tail, tossing his head and 
uttering his grunting bellow; it almost seemed as if he knew 
I would not shoot at him, or as if for the moment he had 
been infected with the absurd tameness which the giraffe 
showed. 
There were seven giraffes, a medium-sized bull, four 
cows, and two young ones; and, funnily enough, the young 
ones were by far the shyest and most suspicious. I did 
not want to kill a bull unless it was exceptionally large; 
whereas I did want two cows and a young one, for the 
museum. When quarter of a mile away I dismounted, 
threw the reins over Tranquillity’s head—whereat the good 
placid old fellow at once began grazing—and walked di¬ 
agonally toward the biggest cow, which was ahead of the 
others. The tall, handsome ungainly creatures were noth¬ 
ing like as shy as the smaller game had shown themselves 
that morning, and of course they offered such big targets 
that three hundred yards was a fair range for them. At 
two hundred and sixty yards I fired at the big cow as she 
stood almost facing me, twisting and curling her tail. The 
bullet struck fair and she was off at a hurried, clumsy 
gallop. I gave her another bullet, but it was not neces¬ 
sary, and down she went. The second cow, a fine young 
heifer, was now cantering across my front, and with two 
more shots I got her; the sharp-pointed bullets penetrating 
