Our Guide Appeared Very Much
Upset When He Found The Pond Empty, And Gave
Vent To Many Exclamations In His Peculiar
Language, In Which The Letter "R" Rolled Like A
Kettledrum.
Our search for water having thus proved a
failure, I determined to try my luck with the
game.
The Masai and the Indian were sent
back to camp, while Mahina and I made a
big detour from the dried-up water-hole. Game
abounded in all directions, but the animals were
much more shy than they had been in the
morning, and it was in vain that I stalked - if
it can be called "stalking," when as a matter of
fact one has to move in the open - splendid
specimens of Thomson's and Grant's gazelle.
I might have attempted a shot once or twice,
but the probability was that owing to the long
range it would have resulted only in a wound,
and I think there is nothing so painful as to see
an animal limping about in a crippled condition.
In this fruitless manner we covered several miles,
and I was beginning to think that we should have
to return to camp without so much as firing a
shot. Just then, however, I saw a herd of
wildebeeste, and with much care managed to get
within three hundred yards of them. I singled
out the biggest head and waiting for a favourable
moment, fired at him, dropping him at once. I
ran up to the fallen beast, which appeared to be
dying, and told Mahina to drive the hunting knife
right through his heart so as to put him quickly
out of all pain.
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