274 
AFRICAN HUNTING. 
and when they have plenty of food are supremely 
happy. 
2 §tli .—I have got on very slowly the last four 
days. Broon, my favourite horse, was taken sick on 
Wednesday and died on Thursday, in spite of all the 
remedies I knew of—profuse bleeding, blistering, 
and powerful emetics. This is the first instance in 
my experience of the horse sickness in the middle of 
winter; it is a sad loss to me, and nothing can replace 
him here. I had been nursing him up for the ele¬ 
phants on my return. He died hard indeed, poor 
fellow! and at his final death-struggle I could not 
repress a tear; he was my best friend, and I never 
had the same affection for any animal. I could not 
but admire the symmetry of his form after the breath 
had left his body. He was a powerful horse with 
great endurance ; he played with the swiftest giraffe, 
and was more than a match for any game I ever 
chased. At his swiftest speed I could guide and 
check him with a pack-thread ; he was a noble 
animal, all that a man could desire in a horse : docile 
and gentle, at the same time full of fire and courage, 
and would face fire or water, or the most virulent 
hack-thorns, and turn his head from nothing his 
rider had the courage to put him at when in pursuit 
of game. I killed with him twenty-seven head of 
large game, and never had a fall through all the 
holes, pit-falls, and fallen timber with which the bush 
abounds. I have now lost all heart for the hunt, and 
care not how soon the trek comes to an end. My 
