HUNTING ON LAKE SOLA! 
171 
on the elands spoor, passing on our way the sixth rhino, 
still quiescent on his ridge and attended by numerous 
tick-birds. The eland now led us upwards and west¬ 
wards, on to open veld where we could see for miles 
stretching away towards the Molo River, and as nothing 
was in sight, after four hours’ spooring, we were reluct¬ 
antly obliged to abandon that quest as quite beyond 
hope. 
It was now nearly two o’clock. In five shots that day 
I had wounded four of the finest game-beasts in Africa, 
and had not got one of them. I concluded it was 
Kismet , and sat down to lunch on biscuits and cold tea 
while reflecting on the extraordinary events that had 
just occurred. What was their inner history? What 
strange frenzy had possessed them, to set all those 
rhinos charging madly down-wind? Wild animals 
seeking safety in flight, invariably point their noses into 
the wind ; that is their safeguard. Naturally one had 
