and creaking, and the oxen grunting and groaning all the
time—the yoke stays threatened to choke them—we with
one grand final effort reached thè top of the bank.
After a brief period of rest, we were again on the forward
move ; and that evening I breathed more freely, as I sat
before the blazing camp fire, and pondered over what had
passed.
One morning happy thoughts dawned upon my mind
when John said he could see elephants in the distance.
At the time we were trekking through an immense sea of
yellow grass, fanned by a gentle breeze into waving billows,
through which the party, as it passed, left a wake behind,
like that of an ocean steamer tossing the glassy sea into a
turbulent foam. At intervals the grass was dotted by
thorny acacias and small clumps of trees.
Sure enough, as John had foreseen, we shortly came upon
the fresh spoor of what seemed a large troupe of elephants.
Anxious as I was to press on my journey, this was too great
a temptation to resist. Outspanning the oxen, I set out
with my Reilly, double eight-bore,* while John accompanied
me with his waterpipe, as I termed it, much to
his disgust, although the description was tolerably true,
as the weapon had a suspicious resemblance to a branch
service-pipe, and he invariably sluiced it out with water
after the day’s work. Karemba and Sagwam were gun-
carriers.
We were soon tracking up, and every sign tended to
show that our pursuit would not be a long one. From
the zig-zag appearance of the spoor, we judged that the
elephants were feeding.
To a hunter imbued with the spirit of the chase, there is
something intensely exhilarating in the feelings which are
* Eight drachms Curtis & Harvey’s hest, and 3-oz. conical bullet.