a bench, and that beyond it the country fell away in sheer cliffs
whose ultimate drop was some fifteen hundred feet. One could sit
atop and dangle his feet over unguessed abysses.

For a week we had been hunting for greater kudu. Each day Memba
Sasa and I went in one direction, while Mavrouki and Kongoni took
another line. We looked carefully for signs, but found none
fresher than the month before. Plenty of other game made the
country interesting; but we were after a shy and valuable prize,
so dared not shoot lesser things. At last, at the end of the
week, Mavrouki came in with a tale of eight lions seen in the low
scrub across the stream. The kudu business was about finished, as
far as this place went, so we decided to take a look for the
lions.

We ate by lantern and at the first light were ready to start. But
at that moment, across the slope of the rim a few hundred yards
away, appeared a small group of sing-sing. These are a beautiful
big beast, with widespread horns, proud and wonderful, like
Landseer's stags, and I wanted one of them very much. So I took
the Springfield, and dropped behind the line of some bushes. The
stalk was of the ordinary sort. One has to remain behind cover,
to keep down wind, to make no quick movements. Sometimes this
takes considerable manoeuvring; especially, as now, in the case
of a small band fairly well scattered out for feeding. Often
after one has succeeded in placing them all safely behind the
scattered cover, a straggler will step out into view. Then the
hunter must stop short, must slowly, oh very, very slowly, sink
down out of sight; so slowly, in fact, that he must not seem to
move, but rather to melt imperceptibly away. Then he must take up