280 
AFRICAN HUNTING. 
mapani trees, the whole chase, without one solitary 
open place. I and my horse were both beaten to a 
stand-still, and I hardly know which of us took the 
longest time to recover. We went blundering, 
stumbling on the last 1,000 yards, all but down half- 
a-dozen times, as I could not afford him the slightest 
assistance, until, when I saw the trees were becoming 
thinner and the leaves almost all gone, I scrambled 
off instinctively, utterly exhausted, gave the gun 
a little elevation, and rolled over the fattest cow 
in the troop, with her long neck broken in two 
places. I had previously jumped off and shot at a 
large, well-grown heifer. I heard the cool 4 clap,’ 
but, as she bounded away at a tremendous pace, I 
was not aware I had killed her. The Kaffirs, who 
followed the horses’ spoor, saw the blood spoor, and 
found her, not 200 yards off, shot dead through the 
body, a little too far back. I lay on the broad of my 
back fully two hours, I think, before my after-rider 
ferreted me out, and his eyes sparkled when he saw 
more than an inch deep of fat in a slit I had made 
along her loins. We at once proceeded to skin and 
cut her up, and we took the direction of the wagons 
with both nags well loaded with delicious meat, and 
three niggers staggering after us with as much as ever 
they could totter under. I despatched four more 
immediately on arriving at the wagon, as there were 
still some three hours’ sun, for we had gone out early 
to hunt, and I grudged leaving the meat on the velt. 
I gave the other giraffe entire to the poor, half- 
