uld dimly make out the kudu himself browsing, from the
tender branch-ends.

All we could do was to lie low. If the kudu fed on out of sight into the
cover, we could not possibly get a shot; if he should happen again to
cross the opening, we would get a good shot. No one but a hunter can
understand the panting, dry-mouthed excitement of those minutes; five
weeks' hard work hung in the balance. The kudu did neither of these
things; he ceased browsing, took three steps forward, and stood.

The game seemed blocked. The kudu had evidently settled down for a
snooze; it was impossible, in the situation, to shorten the distance
without being discovered; the daylight was almost gone; we could make
out no trace of him except through our glasses. Look as hard as we
could, we could see nothing with the naked eye. Unless something
happened within the next two minutes, we would bring nothing into camp
but the memory of a magnificent beast. And next day he would probably be
inextricably lost in the wilderness of mountains.[31]

It was a time for desperate measures, and, to C.'s evident doubtful
anxiety, I took them. Through the glasses the mane of the kudu showed as
a dim gray streak. Carefully I picked out two twigs on a bush fifteen
feet from me, and a tuft of grass ten yards on, all of which were in
line with where the shoulder of the kudu ought to be. Then I lowered my
glasses. The gray streak of the kudu's mane had disappeared in the
blending twilight, but I could still see the tips of the twigs and the
tuft of grass. Very carefully I aligned the sights with these; and, with
a silent prayer to the Red Gods, loosed the bullet into the darkness.

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