So
plentiful was the game that at last I could stand it no longer. I had
a single barrel sporting Martini with me in the litter, the "Express"
being too cumbersome, and espying a beautiful fat eland rubbing himself
under one of the oak-like trees, I jumped out of the litter, and
proceeded to creep as near to him as I could. He let me come within
eighty yards, and then turned his head, and stared at me, preparatory to
running away. I lifted the rifle, and taking him about midway down the
shoulder, for he was side on to me, fired. I never made a cleaner shot
or a better kill in all my small experience, for the great buck sprang
right up into the air and fell dead. The bearers, who had all halted to
see the performance, gave a murmur of surprise, an unwonted compliment
from these sullen people, who never appear to be surprised at anything,
and a party of the guard at once ran off to cut the animal up. As for
myself, though I was longing to have a look at him, I sauntered back
to my litter as though I had been in the habit of killing eland all my
life, feeling that I had gone up several degrees in the estimation
of the Amahagger, who looked on the whole thing as a very high-class
manifestation of witchcraft.
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