The topi
themselves were very uneasy, crossing and recrossing and looking
doubtfully in my direction. I had a number of chances at small bucks,
but refused them in my desire to get a shot at the big leader of the
herd. Finally he separated from the rest and faced in my direction at
just 268 yards. At the shot he fell dead.
For the first time we had an opportunity to admire the wonderful pelt.
It is beautiful in quality, plum colour, with iridescent lights and wavy
"water marks" changing to pearl colour on the four quarters, with black
legs. We were both struck with the gorgeousness of a topi motor-rug made
of three skins, with these pearl spots as accents in the corners. To
our ambitions and hopes we added more topi.
Our journey to the Narossara River lasted three days in all. We gained
an outlying spur of the blue mountains, and skirted their base. The
usual varied foothill country led us through defiles, over ridges, and
by charming groves. We began to see Masai cattle in great herds. The
gentle humpbacked beasts were held in close formation by herders afoot,
tall, lithe young savages with spears. In the distance and through the
heat haze the beasts shimmered strangely, their glossy reds and whites
and blacks blending together. In this country of wide expanses and clear
air we could thus often make out a very far-off herd simply as a speck
of rich colour against the boundless rolling plains.
Pages:
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239