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White, Stewart Edward, 1873-1946

"African Camp Fires"

Once he has seen the animal, whether he gets a shot or
not, all this vanishes. The strain on faith relaxes. He knows what to
look for, and what to expect; and even if he sees no other specimen for
a month, he nevertheless goes about the business with a certain
confidence.
One afternoon we had been hunting carefully certain low mountains, and
were headed for camp, walking rather carelessly along the bed of a
narrow, open valley below the bush-covered side hills. The sun had
disappeared behind the ranges, and the dusk of evening was just
beginning to rise like a mist from the deeps of the canons. We had
ceased hunting--it was time to hurry home--and happened not to be
talking only because we were tired. By sheerest idle luck I chanced to
look up to the densely covered face of the mountain. Across a single
tiny opening in the tall brush five or six hundred yards away, I caught
a movement. Still idly I lifted my glasses for a look at what I thought
would prove the usual impalla or sing-sing, and was just in time to
catch the spirals of a magnificent set of horns. It was the greater kudu
at last!
I gave a little cluck of caution; and instantly, without question, after
the African fashion, the three men ahead of me sank to the ground. C.
looked at me inquiringly. I motioned with my eyes. He raised his glasses
for one look.
"That's the fellow," he said quietly.
The kudu, as though he had merely stepped into the opening to give us a
sight of him, melted into the brush.


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