was not a wilderness at all, but a
beautiful place full of young wives and fat cattle, of game to hunt and
enemies to kill.

Then we all laughed and took it for a good omen. Umbopa was a cheerful
savage, in a dignified sort of way, when he was not suffering from one
of his fits of brooding, and he had a wonderful knack of keeping up our
spirits. We all grew very fond of him.

And now for the one adventure to which I am going to treat myself, for
I do dearly love a hunting yarn.

About a fortnight's march from Inyati we came across a peculiarly
beautiful bit of well-watered woodland country. The kloofs in the hills
were covered with dense bush, "idoro" bush as the natives call it, and
in some places, with the "wacht-een-beche," or "wait-a-little thorn,"
and there were great quantities of the lovely "machabell" tree, laden
with refreshing yellow fruit having enormous stones. This tree is the
elephant's favourite food, and there were not wanting signs that the
great brutes had been about, for not only was their spoor frequent, but
in many places the trees were broken down and even uprooted. The
elephant is a destructive feeder.

One evening, after a long day's march, we came to a spot of great
loveliness. At the foot of a bush-clad hill lay a dry river-bed, in
which, however, were to be found pools of crystal water all trodden
round with the hoof-prints of game. Facing this hill was a park-like
plain, where grew clumps of flat-topped mimosa, varied with occasional
glossy-leaved machabells, and all round stretched the sea of pathless,
silent bush.

As we emerged into this river-bed path suddenly we started a troop of
tall giraffes, who galloped, or rather sailed off, in their strange
gait, their tails screwed up over their backs, and their hoofs rattling
like castanets. They were about three hundred yards from us, and
therefore practically out of shot, but Good, who was walking ahead, and
who had an express loaded with solid ball in his hand, could not resist
temptation. Lifting his gun, he let drive at the last, a young cow. By
some extraordinary chance the ball struck it full on the back of the
neck, shattering the spinal column, and that giraffe went rolling head
over heels just like a rabbit. I never saw a more curious thing.

"Curse it!" said Good--for I am sorry to say he had a habit of using
strong language when excited--contracted, no doubt, in the course of
his nautical career; "curse it! I've killed him."