in the wilderness must, however, be read with
care. Here, at our feet, is a record which must be noted. A
smooth-looking spot attracts our attention; the leaves are all pressed
down, and it is at once seen that some animal has rested there. Down on
your knees, and look with microscopic eyes for some sign of the
creature. There are one, two, three hairs, all lying together. They
are from the coat of a leopard, whose lair we find warm, evincing that
he has been lately disturbed. There, beyond, is the mark of a heavy
animal; a hoof is impressed on the soil, and we see a buffalo has lately
trodden the path before us. So fresh is the footprint that the buffalo
probably disturbed the leopard. Now that our large game is near, we
scarcely notice the graceful festoons of wild vine, the masses of rich
foliage, or the many rare insects that we disturb as we move the bushes.
Before us is the spoor, and we follow this, till we hear a slight
movement amidst the dense mass of tangled brushwood before us, and for a
few seconds we stand with half-raised rifle, watching for some sign to
guide us; but all is still, and with cautiously-raised foot we advance
one pace, then a second, and are preparing for a third, when, like a
thunderbolt, a magnificent buffalo dashes from his dense cover, bounds
over a bush as though he were a mere antelope, crashes through the
underwood, and scarcely seeming to feel the heavy bullet which has
struck him as he fled, is lost to sight in an instant. A few seconds'
quiet, and then the crack of a heavy branch being broken is heard; then
another and another, and the hunter stands half disappointed as these
sounds tell him he has disturbed a herd of elephants who were taking
their mid-day siesta in the forest near him, but are now striding
through the bush, and carrying all before them. This to some
constitutions seems more complete sport than England can afford, though
there are men who tell us that nothing can be equal to that which they
have seen and daily enjoy in the hunting counties of England. _Nous
verrons_. Let the man who angles in his tank, and catches the home-fed
gold-fish, tell the Norwegian salmon-fisher that tank fishing is the
best sport of the two, and we can but conclude that either his skill or
frame is unfitted for the nobler sport, or he has never had the
opportunity of seeing more than that of which he is so fond. On the
plains there is, perhaps, less excitement than in the bush