direction, his head erect, the slight ruff under his neck
standing forward. He was a good four hundred yards away. B., who
wanted him, decided the shot too chancy. He and F. slipped
backward until they had gained the cover of the little ridge,
then hastened down the bed of the ravine. Their purpose was to
follow the course already taken by the waterbuck until they
should have sneaked within better range. In the meantime I and
the gunbearers sat down in full view of the buck. This was to
keep his attention distracted.

We sat there a long time. 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