At the crack of the rifle the kudu leapt into plain sight.
"Hit!" rasped C. in great excitement.
I did not wait to verify this, but fired four times more as fast as I
could work the bolt. Three of the bullets told. At the last shot he
crumpled and came rolling down the slope. We both raised a wild whoop of
triumph, which was answered at once by the expectant gunbearers below.
The finest trophy in Africa was ours!
FOOTNOTES:
[31] Trailing for any distance was impossible on account of the stony
soil.
XLVII.
THE MAGIC PORTALS CLOSE.
It seemed hopeless to try for a picture. Nevertheless I opened wide my
lens, steadied the camera, and gave it a half-second. The result was
fairly good. So much for a high grade lens. We sent Kongoni into camp
for help, and ourselves proceeded to build up the usual fire for signal
and for protection against wild beasts. Then we sat down to enjoy the
evening, while Mavrouki skinned the kudu.
We looked abroad over a wide stretch of country. Successive low ridges
crossed our front, each of a different shade of slate gray from its
neighbours, and a gray half-luminous mist filled the valley between
them. The edge of the world was thrown sharp against burnished copper.
After a time the moon rose.
Memba Sasa arrived before the lanterns, out of breath, his face
streaming with perspiration. Poor Memba Sasa! this was almost the only
day he had not followed close at my heels, and on this day we had
captured the Great Prize.
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