The Next Morning, Having Made All Arrangements For Starting Homewards,
After Breakfast I Took My Rifle And One Gun-Bearer With A
Double-Barrelled Gun To Enjoy One Last Stroll In The Forest.
It was just
break of day.
My first course was towards the river which flowed through
it, as I expected to find the game near the water, an hour before
sunrise being their time for drinking. I had not proceeded far before
immense herds of deer offered tempting shots; but I was out simply in
search of large antlers, and none appearing of sufficient size, I would
not fire. Buffaloes continually presented themselves: I was tired of
shooting these brutes, but I killed two who looked rather vicious; and I
amused myself with remarking the immense quantity of game, and imagining
the number of heads that I could bag had I chosen to indulge in
indiscriminate slaughter. At length I noticed a splendid buck lying on
the sandy bed of the river, beneath a large tree; his antlers were
beautiful, and I stalked him to within sixty yards and shot him. I had
not been reloaded ten minutes, and was walking quietly through the
forest, when I saw a fine antlered buck standing within thirty yards of
me in a small patch of underwood. His head was turned towards me, and
his nostrils were distended in alarm as he prepared to bound off. I had
just time to cock my rifle as he dashed off at full speed; but it was a
murderous distance, and he fell dead.
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