fond of killing creatures, for any humane man soon wearies of slaughter.
No, it is the excitement of sport, which, before breechloaders came in,
was acute enough, I can assure you; the lonely existence in wild places,
often with only the sun and the stars for companions; the continual
adventures; the strange tribes with whom I came in contact; in short,
the change, the danger, the hope always of finding something great and
new, that attracted and still attracts me, even now when I _have_ found
the great and the new. There, I must not go on writing like this, or I
shall throw down my pen and book a passage for Africa, and incidentally
to the next world, no doubt--that world of the great and new!


It was, I think, in the month of May in the year 1854 that I went
hunting in rough country between the White and Black Umvolosi Rivers, by
permission of Panda--whom the Boers had made king of Zululand after the
defeat and death of Dingaan his brother. The district was very
feverish, and for this reason I had entered it in the winter months.
There was so much bush that, in the total absence of roads, I thought it
wise not to attempt to bring my wagons down, and as no horses would live
in that veld I went on foot. My principal companions were a Kafir of
mixed origin, called Sikauli, commonly abbreviated into Scowl, the Zulu
chief Saduko, and a headman of the Undwandwe blood named Umbezi, at
whose kraal on the high land about thirty miles away I left my wagon and
certain of my men in charge of the goods and some ivory that I had
traded.

This Umbezi was a stout and genial-mannered man of about sixty years of
age, and, what is rare among these people, one who loved sport for its
own sake. Being aware of his tastes, also that he knew the country and
was skilled in finding game, I had promised him a gun if he would