. Toward sunset
great flights of sand grouse swarmed across the yellowing sky from some
distant feeding ground.

Near Juja I had one of the three experiences that especially impressed
on my mind the abundance of African big game. I had stalked and wounded
a wildebeeste across the N'derogo River, and had followed him a mile
or so afoot, hoping to be able to put in a finishing shot. As sometimes
happens the animal rather gained strength as time went on; so I
signalled for my horse, mounted, and started out to run him down. After
a quarter mile we began to pick up the game herds. Those directly in
our course ran straight away; other herds on either side, seeing them
running, came across in a slant to join them. Inside of a half mile I
was driving before me literally thousands of head of game of several
varieties. The dust rose in a choking cloud that fairly obscured the
landscape, and the drumming of the hooves was like the stampeding of
cattle. It was a wonderful sight.

On the plains of Juja, also, I had my one real African Adventure,
when, as in the Sunday Supplements, I Stared Death in the Face-also
everlasting disgrace and much derision. We were just returning to the
farm after an afternoon's walk, and as we approached I began to look
around for much needed meat. A herd of zebra stood in sight; so leaving
Memba Sasa I began to stalk them. My usual weapon for this sort of thing
was the Springfield, for which I carried extra cartridges in my belt. On
this occasion, however, I traded with Memba Sasa for the 405, simply for
the purpose of trying it out. At a few paces over three hundred yards
I landed on the zebra, but did not knock him down. Then I set out to
follow. It was a long job and took me far, for again and again he joined
other zebra, when, of course, I could not tell one from t'other. My only
expedient was to frighten the lot. There upon the uninjured ones would
distance the one that was hurt. The latter kept his eye on me. Whenever
I managed to get within reasonable distance, I put up the rear sight of
the 405, and let drive. I heard every shot hit, and after each hit was
more than a little astonished to see the zebra still on his feet, and
still able to wobble on.* The fifth shot emptied the rifle. As I had no
more cartridges for this arm, I approached to within sixty yards, and
stopped to wait either for him to fall, or for a very distant Memba Sasa
to come up with more cartridges. Then the zebra waked up.