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

his progress at a lower plane of elevation. Perhaps he needs
merely to stoop; or he may crawl on hands and knees; or he may

lie flat and hitch himself forward by his toes, pushing his gun
ahead. If one of the beasts suddenly looks very intently in his

direction, he must freeze into no matter what uncomfortable
position, and so remain an indefinite time. Even a hotel-bred

child to whom you have rashly made advances stares no longer nor
more intently than a buck that cannot make you out.

I had no great difficulty with this lot, but slipped up quite
successfully to within one hundred and fifty yards. There I

raised my head behind a little bush to look. Three does grazed
nearest me, their coats rough against the chill of early morning.

Up the slope were two more does and two funny, fuzzy babies. An
immature buck occupied the extreme left with three young ladies.

But the big buck, the leader, the boss of the lot, I could not
see anywhere. Of course he must be about, and I craned my neck

cautiously here and there trying to make him out.
Suddenly, with one accord, all turned and began to trot rapidly

away to the right, their heads high. In the strange manner of
animals, they had received telepathic alarm, and had instantly

obeyed. Then beyond and far to the right I at last saw the beast
I had been looking for. The old villain had been watching me all

the time!
The little herd in single file made their way rapidly along the

face of the rise. They were headed in the direction of the
stream. Now, I happened to know that at this point the

stream-canyon was bordered by sheer cliffs. Therefore, the
sing-sing must round the hill, and not cross the stream. By

running to the top of the hill I might catch a glimpse of them
somewhere below. So I started on a jog trot, trying to hit the

golden mean of speed that would still leave me breath to shoot.
This was an affair of some nicety in the tall grass. Just before

I reached the actual slope, however, I revised my schedule. The
reason was supplied by a rhino that came grunting to his feet

about seventy yards away. He had not seen me, and he had not
smelled me, but the general disturbance of all these events had

broken into his early morning nap. He looked to me like a person
who is cross before breakfast, so I ducked low and ran around

him. The last I saw of him he was still standing there, quite
disgruntled, and evidently intending to write to the directors

about it.
Arriving at the top, I looked eagerly down. The cliff fell away

at an impossible angle, but sheer below ran out a narrow bench
fifty yards wide. Around the point of the hill to my right-where

the herd had gone-a game trail dropped steeply to this bench. I
arrived just in time to see the sing-sing, still trotting, file

across the bench and over its edge, on some other invisible game
trail, to continue their descent of the cliff. The big buck

brought up the rear. At the very edge he came to a halt, and
looked back, throwing his head up and his nose out so that the

heavy fur on his neck stood forward like a ruff. It was a last
glimpse of him, so I held my little best, and pulled trigger.

This happened to be one of those shots I spoke of-which the
perpetrator accepts with a thankful and humble spirit. The

sing-sing leaped high in the air and plunged over the edge of the
bench. I signalled the camp-in plain sight-to come and get the

head and meat, and sat down to wait. And while waiting, I looked
out on a scene that has since been to me one of my four

symbolizations of Africa.
The morning was dull, with gray clouds through which at wide

intervals streamed broad bands of misty light. Below me the cliff
fell away clear to a gorge in the depths of which flowed a river.

Then the land began to rise, broken, sharp, tumbled, terrible,
tier after tier, gorge after gorge, one twisted range after the

other, across a breathlessly immeasurable distance. The prospect
was full of shadows thrown by the tumult of lava. In those

shadows one imagined stranger abysses. Far down to the right a
long narrow lake inaugurated a flatter, alkali-whitened country

of low cliffs in long straight lines. Across the distances proper
to a dozen horizons the tumbled chaos heaved and fell. The eye

sought rest at the bounds usual to its accustomed world-and went
on. There was no roundness to the earth, no grateful curve to

drop this great fierce country beyond a healing horizon out of
sight. The immensity of primal space was in it, and the

simplicity of primal things-rough, unfinished, full of mystery.
There was no colour. The scene was done in slate gray, darkening

to the opaque where a tiny distant rain squall started;
lightening in the nearer shadows to reveal half-guessed peaks;

brightening unexpectedly into broad short bands of misty gray
light slanting from the gray heavens above to the sombre tortured

immensity beneath. It was such a thing as Gustave Dore might have
imaged to serve as an abiding place for the fierce chaotic spirit of

the African wilderness.
I sat there for some time hugging my knees, waiting for the men

to come. The tremendouslandscape seemed to have been willed to
immobility. The rain squalls forty miles or more away did not

appear to shift their shadows; the rare slanting bands of light
from the clouds were as constant as though they were falling

through cathedral windows. But nearer at hand other things were
forward. The birds, thousands of them, were doing their best to

cheer things up. The roucoulements of doves rose from the bushes
down the face of the cliffs; the bell bird uttered his clear

ringing note; the chime bird gave his celebratedimitation of a
really gentlemanly sixty-horse power touring car hinting you out

of the way with the mellowness of a chimed horn; the bottle bird
poured gallons of guggling essence of happiness from his silver

jug. From the direction of camp, evidently jumped by the boys, a
steinbuck loped gracefully, pausing every few minutes to look

back, his dainty legs tense, his sensitive ears pointed toward
the direction of disturbance.

And now, along the face of the cliff, I make out the flashing of
much movement, half glimpsed through the bushes. Soon a fine

old-man baboon, his tail arched after the dandified fashion of
the baboon aristocracy stepped out, looked around, and bounded

forward. Other old men followed him, and then the young men, and
a miscellaneous lot of half-grown youngsters. The ladies brought

up the rear, with the babies. These rode their mothers' backs,
clinging desperately while they leaped along, for all the world

like the patheticmonkey "jockeys" one sees strapped to the backs
of big dogs in circuses. When they had approached to within fifty

yards, remarked "hullo!" to them. Instantly they all stopped.
Those in front stood up on their hind legs; those behind

clambered to points of vantage on rocks and the tops of small
bushes: They all took a good long look at me. Then they told me

what they thought about me personally, the fact of my being
there, and the rude way I had startled them. Their remarks were

neither complimentary nor refined. The old men, in especial, got
quite profane, and screamed excited billingsgate. Finally they

all stopped at once, dropped on all fours, and loped away, their
ridiculous long tails curved in a half arc. Then for the first

time I noticed that, under cover of the insults, the women and
children had silentlyretired. Once more I was left to the

familiar gentle bird calls, and the vast silence of the