Finally, About Nine O'clock, I Made Out
Two Lanterns Bobbing Up To Me Through The Trees.
The last incident to be selected from many experiences with
buffaloes took place in quite an unvisited district over the
mountains from the Loieta Plains.
For nearly two months we had
ranged far in this lovely upland country of groves and valleys
and wide grass bottoms between hills, hunting for greater kudu.
One day we all set out from camp to sweep the base of a range of
low mountains in search of a good specimen of Newman's
hartebeeste, or anything else especially desirable that might
happen along. The gentle slope from the mountains was of grass
cut by numerous small ravines grown with low brush. This brush
was so scanty as to afford but indifferent cover for anything
larger than one of the small grass antelopes. All the ravines led
down a mile or so to a deeper main watercourse paralleling the
mountains. Some water stood in the pools here; and the cover was
a little more dense, but consisted at best of but a "stringer" no
wider than a city street. Flanking the stringer were scattered
high bushes for a few yards; and then the open country.
Altogether as unlikely a place for the shade-loving buffalo as
could be imagined.
We collected our Newmanii after rather a long hunt; and just at
noon, when the heat of the day began to come on, we wandered down
to the water for lunch.
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