Two badly demoralized
hartebeeste stamped out into the open and away; two only. The kill had
been made.
We had only the one rifle with us, for we were supposed to be out after
kudu only, and were travelling as light as possible. No doubt the
Springfield would kill a leopard, if the bullet landed in the right
place. We discussed the matter. It ended, of course, in our sneaking
down there; I with the Springfield, and C. with his knife unsheathed.
Our precautions and trepidations were wasted. The leopard had carried
the hartebeeste bodily some distance, had thrust it under a bush, and
had departed. C. surmised it would return towards evening.
Therefore we continued after kudu. We found old signs, proving that the
beasts visited this country, but nothing fresh. We saw, however, the
first sing-sing, some impalla, some klipspringer, and Chanler's
reed-buck.
At evening we made a crafty stalk atop the mesa-like foothills to a
point overlooking the leopard's kill. We lay here looking the place over
inch by inch through our glasses, when an ejaculation of disgust from
Kongoni called our attention. There at another spot that confounded
beast sat like a house cat watching us cynically. Either we had come too
soon, or she had heard us and retired to what she considered a safe
distance. There was of course no chance of getting nearer; so I sat
down, for a steadier hold, and tried her anyway.
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