GUINEA-FOWLS 
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from the earth so dazed the old girl, that she just sat there 
and grinned with terror until I left her. 
It was rather a poor day’s sport taken altogether, so I 
returned to camp about midday to find that Matambanja had 
sent his son oyer with a bag of corn and a message to say 
he would honour me with a visit early next morning. Matam- 
banja’s son was clad in a situtunga’s skin brayed as soft as 
silk. It was of dark colour, reddish brown with a shot of grey 
in it, and the thin hair was long and soft, half-way between wool 
and goat hair in texture. 
Towards evening the cackling of guinea-fowl in the neigh¬ 
bourhood aroused my rebuffed instincts, and I went out and 
shot six with the rifle, enough for a good meal all round. 
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