THE MAU FOREST 
189 
sought, apparently, was shelter from the sun; for within 
200 yards they were lying asleep. Even that short 
crawl involved unspeakable labour; but presently I 
heard stertorous breathing and low grunts apparently 
not ten yards ahead. It was then that the misgivings 
alluded to arose in my mind; but my black companion 
coolly continued to peer and spy into the mural foliage 
before us. Another yard or two we crawled forward, 
prone beneath interlacing boughs and brambles, then 
slowly raised ourselves behind a sheltering trunk. Still 
we saw nothing. But the buffaloes either saw, smelt or 
heard us, for there ensued a mighty crash, a bushy tail 
whirled aloft, there was one glimpse of a broad black 
stern, the curve of a huge horn—and they were gone. 
They did not go far, for four times that morning we 
overhauled them, each time with a similar result—or 
worse. For never again, though always close up, did I 
get even so slight a view as on that first approach— 
and then it was little more than merely a vanishing 
tail-piece. 
The idea in thus persistently following was the off- 
chance of finding the game, sooner or later, in more 
favourable position—that is, being interpreted, that we 
might see through some lucky crevice in the cavernous 
foliage sufficient black hide (necessarily almost within 
arm’s length, since we could see no further) to enable 
aim to be taken. 
We had, as stated, “jumped” buffalo four times. 
On the first three occasions they were the original trio; 
but the last was a single lone bull whose spoor we had 
cut, and to whom we had transferred attention. Him 
we followed till noon, and never in my life have I 
traversed such jungle or undergone more cruel labour. 
Words are but wasted in attempting to describe the alter¬ 
nations of crawling, climbing, wriggling and struggling 
through, over, or under thorny brakes. 
Wherever light could penetrate, the bracken grew to 
ten feet in height (measured). The new growth, now 
coming, was about three feet. 
