The buck never moved but continued to
stare at what evidently puzzled him.
Time passes very slowly in
such circumstances, and it seemed incredible that the beast
should continue much longer to hold his fixed attitude.
Nevertheless B. and F. were working hard. We caught glimpses of
them occasionally slipping from bush to bush. Finally B. knelt
and levelled his rifle. At once I turned my glasses on the buck.
Before the sound of the rifle had reached me, I saw him start
convulsively, then make off at the tearing run that indicates a
heart hit. A moment later the crack of the rifle and the dull
plunk of the hitting bullet struck my ear.
We tracked him fifty yards to where he lay dead. He was a fine
trophy, and we at once set the boys to preparing it and taking
the meat. In the meantime we sauntered down to look at the
stream. It was a small rapid affair, but in heavy papyrus, with
sparse trees, and occasional thickets, and dry hard banks. The
papyrus should make a good lurking place for almost anything; but
the few points of access to the water failed to show many
interesting tracks. Nevertheless we decided to explore a short
distance.
For an hour we walked among high thornbushes, over baking hot
earth. We saw two or three dik-dik and one of the giraffes. At
that time it had become very hot, and the sun was bearing down on
us as with the weight of a heavy hand.
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