e prominent peak Chiarapela. These rivulets have often
human dwellings on their banks; but the land can scarcely be said to be
occupied. The number of all sorts of game increases wonderfully every
day. As a specimen of what may be met with where there are no human
habitations, and where no firearms have been introduced, we may mention
what at times has actually been seen by us. On the morning of July 3rd a
herd of elephants passed within fifty yards of our sleeping-place, going
down to the river along the dry bed of a rivulet. Starting a few minutes
before the main body, we come upon large flocks of guinea-fowl, shoot
what may be wanted for dinner, or next morning's breakfast, and leave
them in the path to be picked up by the cook and his mates behind. As we
proceed, francolins of three varieties run across the path, and hundreds
of turtle-doves rise, with great blatter of wing, and fly off to the
trees. Guinea-fowls, francolins, turtle-doves, ducks, and geese are the
game birds of this region. At sunrise a herd of pallahs, standing like a
flock of sheep, allow the first man of our long Indian file to approach
within about fifty yards; but having meat, we let them trot off leisurely
and unmolested. Soon afterwards we come upon a herd of waterbucks, which
here are very much darker in colour, and drier in flesh, than the same
species near the sea. They look at us and we at them; and we pass on to
see a herd of doe koodoos, with a magnificently horned buck or two,
hurrying off to the dry hill-sides. We have ceased shooting antelopes,
as our men have been so often gorged with meat that they have become fat
and dainty. They say that they do not want more venison, it is so dry
and tasteless, and ask why we do not give them shot to shoot the more
savoury guinea-fowl.

About eight o'clock the tsetse commence to buzz about us, and bite our
hands and necks sharply. Just as we are thinking of breakfast, we meet
some buffaloes grazing by the path; but they make off in a heavy gallop
at the sight of man. We fire, and the foremost, badly wounded, separates
from the herd, and is seen to stop amongst the trees; but, as it is a
matter of great danger to follow a wounded buffalo, we hold on our way.
It is this losing of wounded animals which makes firearms so annihilating
to these beasts of the field, and will in time sweep them all away. The
small Enfield bullet is worse than the old round one for this. It often
goes thro