To us he whispered that he thought he had caught a
glimpse of the animal through an opening and across the stream bed. We
stalked carefully, and found ourselves in the middle of a small herd of
topis, one of which, half concealed in the brush, had deceived C. This
consumed valuable time. When again we had picked up the spoor, it was
agreed that I was to still-hunt ahead as rapidly as I could, while C.
and Kongoni would puzzle out the tracks as far as possible before dark.
Therefore I climbed the little rocky ridge on our left, and walked
along near its crest, keeping a sharp lookout over the valley
below--much as one would hunt August bucks in California. After two or
three hundred yards I chanced on a short strip of soft earth in which
the fresh tracks of the roan going uphill were clearly imprinted. I
could not without making too much noise inform the others that I had cut
in ahead of them; so I followed the tracks as cautiously and quietly as
I could. On the very top of the hill the roan leapt from cover fifty
yards away, and with a clatter of rocks dashed off down the ridge. The
grass was very high, and I could see only his head and horns, but I
dropped the front sight six inches and let drive at a guess. The guess
happened to be a good one, for he turned a somersault seventy-two yards
away.
C. and Kongoni came up. The sun had just set. In fifteen minutes it
would be pitch dark.
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