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Since it was evidently killed early in the morning, some hours before the ram met his fate, it is clear that the pack must have been hunting all over this part of the bush since early dawn. This fact will certainly complicate matters for us. Indeed we are not long in realising the extent of our troubles; for we soon find ourselves amid a maze of tracks, going in all directions, intermingled with each other, and in many places trodden over by those of the herds of game which have since passed. The marks left by the soft pads of the carnivora are never the easiest things in the world to decipher on hard ground; and when in addition to their faintness they cross and intercross as they do here, it becomes extremely difficult to pick out the right ones to follow. A succession of wide casts is necessary, and while we thus thread the bush in all directions we happen everywhere on traces of the morn

ing's work. Our steps are most frequently arrested by the remains of the unfortunate little impala lambs. This is the height of the lambing season for these antelopes, the time when all their natural enemies are most active and destructive.

There is no wild animal in Africa which deals out such wholesale destruction to certain kinds of game as the hunting dog. Though its prey, generally speaking, consists of the lesser ungulates, from reedbucks downwards, when pressed by hunger it

does not hesitate to attack the largest of the antelope tribe-not excepting even the formidable sable. Well authenticated records exist of almost every other kind of predatory beast having in turn formed its, at any rate temporary, quarry. Leopards have been known to be chased up trees; hyænas have been found in found in process of being mobbed to death; the lion himself, when found solitary, is sometimes pursued by a pack; and though the stories current of the fear which the king of the forest habitually displays of hunting dogs generally are without doubt much exaggerated, there have been known cases of single lions being chased away from their "kills" and pursued for considerable distances. Bush pirate and Ishmael as he is, strangely enough towards man the hunting dog seems to betray little or no aggressive tendency. Notwithstanding the fear which he often inspires in the unhabituated by his occasional reluctance to give ground, I have never heard of an attack having been made even upon an unarmed native; nor among the many I have seen dispatched at close quarters when wounded have I ever noticed a single instance of any disposition to ferocity.

Wandering about in bands over huge areas of wild country, and seldom remaining more than a few days in any one locality, the hunting dog is probably less frequently encountered than any any other kind of carnivore, and therefore in less degree than any

other has he experience of man and his ways. There is at least no doubt that when this experience has been acquired, few creatures show more haste in escaping from man's presence, or display more intelligence in doing so. But if there is little ground of complaint against him as regards man personally, it is a very different matter where the latter's flocks and herds are concerned. When the farmer first begins to graze his sheep in a wild country, one of the chief, if not the most dangerous, of his enemies is the hunting dog. Sweeping down upon a flock, a pack of these animals will in a very few minutes entirely annihilate it, killing and rending apparently for the mere pleasure of doing so, and then, having completed the slaughter, will probably be miles away, wreaking the same destruction elsewhere, ere the irate owner and his friends have time to arrive upon the scene. A long crusade against them in Cape Colony resulted at length in their virtual extinction in the settled parts, but in all the wilder corners of South Africa the same thing still goes on, and raids upon small herds of native goats and sheep are every where, where these pests exist, of constant occurrence. Since they never return to their "kill," trapping and poisoning at the spot where the occurrence took place are of no effect, and they are probably quite the most difficult of the larger carnivora to expel from a district suitable to them.

Constantly stumbling over fresh "kills," putting up groups

of vultures, and now losing, now again finding the spoor, we at length enter a part of the forest where the grass is growing high and rank. Here the stems, pressed down by the passage of the pack earlier in the day, have had time to recover themselves, the soil itself is too hard to offer the slightest indication of footprints, and tracking, at all times a slow and laborious process, becomes more and more difficult. The sun is blazing down in a most insistent manner. One's brain

There

feels as if it was being cooked, and standing and loitering about makes matters still more trying. It is half-past two o'clock, the warmest part of the day; the ground is baked red-hot wherever there is no long grass to shelter it, and from the whole earth is reflected a heat which ever grows in intensity. So, choosing the line of least resistance, we seek about for a suitable tree under which it may be possible to obtain a little temporary refuge. It is not such an easy matter as it looks, however. are, it is true, multitudes of trees of all shapes, ages, and sizes, but each vies with its neighbour in lack of all shadegiving properties. Scraggy acacias for the most part, their chief mission in life seems to be to grow living thorns to rend the garments of the passerby, and to strew dead ones on the ground to pierce his flesh should he unwisely sit down in their vicinity. A patient search is at length rewarded by the discovery of a small marula-tree, the apples, beloved of all game, lying thickly

strewn underneath it. These apples, though, like many other wild fruits, consisting mostly of stone, are quite good to bite when one is hot and thirsty. The natives long ago discovered that they are capable of being brewed into a very intoxicating drink, and so during their season they are highly popular both with beast and man. Munching the apples, and varying the operation with an occasional pull at the waterbottle, we sit at ease and watch the efforts of the trackers. The sun does not worry them much. Steamela has even taken off his battered straw hat and now carries it in his hand, Occasionally using it as a fan. Backwards and forwards they cast in all directions, eyes glued to ground, occasionally stopping for a short consultation, working in the most praiseworthy manner, considering how the pursuit of this particular kind of quarry bores them. So half an hour passes, and then both return with dejected mien to report that all signs of the tracks have been lost. They sit down, and, refraining from from suggestion, elaborately inhale snuff.

For some time we have been taking stock of the ground in front, that is to say to the north-west, where the forest sinks suddenly into a deep valley, containing of course one of the dry stream - beds which everywhere intersect the country. There will be shade and no doubt a pool of water. It seems a not unlikely place to try for our lost pack. Even should they not have settled

down there for the day, at least we may be able to find some trace of their passage in the yielding sand. The proposition is laid before our attendants, who, albeit without any violent enthusiasm, agree that it seems the best, in fact the only, thing to do; and so we get ready for another move. It takes a certain amount of will power to force oneself out of the shade into the broiling sun again, and there is a heavy feeling in the air, telling of atmospheric pressure, which does not conduce to energy. One experiences that feeling of disinclination to move which also intrudes itself when it is necessary to leave the dry shelter of house or tent to brave a tropical downpour of rain. Everything is drowsy, the birds are nearly silent, the insects drone only in the more shady spots. More energetic than the others, a swarm of bees, intent on change of quarters, pass with a deep humming noise overhead. As we descend the valley the scrub becomes thicker, we have constantly to bend and stoop under overhanging boughs; wait-a-bit thorns, sharp and tenacious as fish-hooks, among their innocent-looking little oval leaves of tender green, imperiously pluck at our clothing, shreds of which constantly remain to mark our passage. Thorns sometimes form barriers so impassable to progress that we have to make long detours to avoid being held up in blind alleys. Some of the bushes are dead and dry, skeletons of hard white-grey wood, with sharp broken ends, which it is well

to avoid stumbling against, though the thorns have vanished from them long ago. Others are dense and green, and bristling with spikes. There are little hooked thorns, long straight thorns three or four inches from base to point, and sometimes a combination of the two; but very few trees are unprovided with some protection of the kind. Nature seems intent on telling man very clearly that this is her own special demesne. To low-standing animals like the carnivora, the thick bush offers but little impediment; they can not only slip with ease through the grass and undergrowth beneath the level of the lower branches of the trees and bushes, but have an excellent view along the lower plane. Antelopes brush through the most prohibitive-looking break of thorns as though it did not exist. Man, however, is in quite other case. His upright method of progression inhibits from his gaze all but a dense impenetrable-looking tangle of branches, leaves, and thorns. His field of view is often restricted to a few yards, while his own legs and the lower part of his body are clearly visible at quite long distances to creatures whose eyes are on lower level. Then his tender skin and his cloth garments are neither of them of much service in protecting him from from wounds, should he endeavour to make reckless plunges, as he is tempted to do, for instance, when eager to get a second shot at his game. At every turn he is forcibly reminded of

his natural limitations. There are few exercises more exhausting than moving through thick and trackless thorn-bush on a hot day. Now and then it may perhaps be possible to take temporary advantage of a game track, but made as these are usually, by impala and kudu, creatures which by preference seek out the very thickest covert they can find, they are seldom of enduring help.

At length, stooping and orawling, and occasionally, it is to be feared, using reprehensible language, we catch a glimpse of the yellow sand forming the bed of the nearly dry watercourse. Caution now! A hook thorn impaling the lobe of the right ear must not evoke even a whisper. With softly treading feet and carefully selected steps we thread our way through the rest of the intervening thicket, rifle ready, every sense alert, the trackers relegated to a few paces in rear.

With shrill, grating protests a brace of francolins suddenly rise almost at our feet, and whir away, still rending the air with their entirely superfluous cries of alarm, to find refuge from the fancied danger in the patch of dense bush across the stream-bed. It is all up with our chance of surprise if our quarry is anywhere at hand. For a second or two we stand still, hardly daring to breathe; and then the tension relaxes: everything is silent: nothing has happened. Before us stretches the thirty feet of sand, winding away out of sight to right and left, inter

spersed here and there with patches of reeds and jutting rocks; thickly imprinted with the nightly tracks of multitudes of animals. We breathe a sigh of relief, for, if hunting dogs were in the neighbourhood and alarmed, they would scarcely have failed to give us some indication thereof. So we descend with less caution into the stream-bed, and begin hunting about for fresh tracks. Very interesting it is to spell out the goings and comings as written in these sand-spruits. Of course far the greater number of footmarks are those of impala; but here and there a line of deeper imprints, crossing straight from bank to bank, evidences the passage of a herd of sable or of waterbuck. Here a leopard has prowled last night, moving stealthily along the sand close under one of the banks. Here has gone a civet, and these curious hand-like impressions can belong only to an ant-bear, most secretive of all mammals. Fifty yards farther on, Jase calls attention to a line of great deep footmarks, showing in the soft sand as little more than round pits, but not to be mistaken for any but the tracks of one of our few remaining rhinos. Not a trace of the animals we are after. Steamela says he knows there is a waterhole about half a mile up stream, and suggests our going thither, since, even should we not find our game, we can at least satisfy our thirst. We will not, however, take the most obvious route up the stream-bed, but, plunging once

more into the bush, will make a circuit, and come to the spot with the wind once more in our favour.

Twenty minutes of struggling with the bush brings us near our goal, and we resume all our previous precautions. This time there are no vigilant francolins on guard, and just as, very cautiously, we emerge on to the few yards of open bank which slope down to a small discoloured pool in the sand, shaded by a big rock from much of the sun's rays, a sudden raucous half bark, half growl, comes from the middle of a big patch of reeds forty yards away. Instantly following, a large dark form springs out on to the sand, and as it stands rigid for a moment, a bullet rolls it over. At the crack of the rifle the whole bed of the watercourse beyond the reeds is in a moment swarming

with confusedly leaping, hoarsely growling shapes. The majority of the pack, sound asleep until awakened by the shot, have, for the moment, no idea from which side to apprehend the danger, and bound frantically first one way and then another. One animal, indeed, rushes blindly up the bank straight towards us, and meets a bullet at little more than ten paces. The magazine is quickly emptied. Deliberate shooting is impossible: the whole pack is a whirling constantly changing mass of kaleidoscopic movement. Only for a few moments, however. Some older animal probably gives the cue, and in a twinkling all dash up

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