Our lanterns flared in the great
wind that swept down the defile; and across the track little fires
flared too. Shortly we made the acquaintance of the South Africander who
furnished us our ox teams and wagon; and of a lank, drawling youth who
was to be our "rider." The latter was very anxious to get started, so we
piled all our stores and equipment but those immediately necessary for
the night aboard the great wagon. Then we returned to the dak-bungalow
for a very belated supper. While eating this we discussed our plans.
These were in essence very simple. Somewhere south of the Great Thirst
of the Sotik a river called the Narossara. Back of the river were high
mountains, and down the river were benches dropping off by thousands of
feet to the barren country of Lake Magahdi. Over some of this country
ranged the Greater Kudu, easily the prize buck of East Africa. We
intended to try for a Greater Kudu.
People laughed at us. The beast is extremely rare; it ranges over a wide
area; it inhabits the thickest sort of cover in a sheer mountainous
country; its senses are wonderfully acute; and it is very wary. A man
_might_, once in a blue moon, get one by happening upon it accidentally,
but deliberately to go after it was sheer lunacy. So we were told. As a
matter of fact, we thought so ourselves, but Greater Kudu was as good an
excuse as another.
The most immediate of our physical difficulties was the Thirst.
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