At our final camp on the river, before 
leaving it on our week’s steady trek south¬ 
ward to Neri, we found a spot in which 
game abounded. It was about ten miles 
back from the river, a stretch of plains 
sparsely covered with thorn-trees, broken 
by koppies, and bounded by chains of low, 
jagged mountains, with an occasional bold, 
isolated peak. The crags and cliff walls 
were fantastically carved and channelled 
by the weathering of ages in that dry cli¬ 
mate. It was a harsh, unlovely spot in 
the glare of the hot daylight; but at sun¬ 
set it was very lovely, with a wild and 
stern beauty. 
Here the game abounded, and was not 
wary. Before starting out on our week’s 
steady marching I wished to give the safari 
a good feed; and one day I shot them five 
zebra and an oryx bull, together with a 
couple of gazelle for ourselves and our im¬ 
mediate attendants—enough of the game 
being hallalled to provide for the Moham¬ 
medans in the safari. I also shot an old 
bull giraffe of the northern form, after an 
uneventful stalk which culminated in a 
shot with the Winchester at a hundred and 
seventy yards. In most places this partic¬ 
ular stretch of country was not suitable for 
galloping, the ground being rotten, filled 
with holes, and covered with tall, coarse 
grass. One evening we saw two lions half 
a mile away; I tried to ride them, but my 
horse fell twice in the first hundred and fifty 
29 
