g it shot across
the open, and my left barrel spoke, a fraction of a second before it
disappeared over the declivity. But in that fraction of a second I had
seen the convulsive start, the unmistakable squirm, and could have
hurrahed aloud.

I remained still, however, slipping in a couple of fresh cartridges.
Another might come out. But it did not; instead, the dogs appeared hot
foot on the scent, and close behind them George.

"Hallo, Mr Holt. Where's the buck?" cried that youth, with a derisive
grin. "Man, but we drove him right over you."

"And I've driven him right over there," pointing to the brow of the
declivity.

"So it seems. Man! but you won't get such a chance again in a hurry."

"Well, Holt? No luck, eh?" said Brian, appearing on the scene.

"Well, it depends on whether you look at it from my point of view or the
buck's," I said with designed coolness. "If the latter, you're right."

"Eh? Why--"

Something of a clamour beneath interrupted him: the fierce worrying of
dogs, and the half bellow, half scream, of a bush-buck ram in the last
fight for his life. We did not pause a moment then. Flinging
themselves from their horses--mine had been left much higher up--they
plunged down, I following, leaping from rock to rock. There lay my
quarry, unable to rise save on his forelegs, yet savagely menacing with
his pointed horns the three dogs which were leaping and snarling
frantically around him.

"He's done for--hit rather far back, though," said Brian, calling off
the dogs. "Put another shot into him, Holt--forward this time."

I did, and the animal at once stiffened out, lifeless.

"_Maagtig_! but he's a fine ram," cried George, while congenially
amusing himself by cutting the beast's throat. "You didn't hit him by
accident, Mr Holt, hey?"

"Bad accident for the buck, anyway," said Brian with a dry laugh. "Well
done, Holt. I congratulate you. Thirteen-inch horns! We'll have them
done up for you as a trophy of your first bushbuck."

I was secretly not a little pleased with myself, as the buck, having
been cleaned, was loaded up behind my saddle, and we took our way
homewards, for Brian declared that we might be all day and not get
anything like so good a chance again, without beaters and with only
three dogs. Moreover, it was rather out of season, and they had come
out solely on my account. I, however, was amply content; indeed, I
sneakingly thought it just as well not to spoil the