It was while we were trying to pick up the lost trail of the
lions that we flushed a cheetah out of one of the dongas.[2] It
broke away along the foothills, and finally stopped at bay in a
district where the going was so bad for the horses that we had to
give up the attempt.
[2] Donga.--a gully.
With the rhinoceros we had scarcely any chance whatsoever. The
Colonel, who was scouting the country to the northward of the
line of march, caught a glimpse of the beast in the adjacent
valley. By the time he had come back to get us and we had ridden
in pursuit, the rhino had disappeared.
We found his trail leading still farther to the northward, and
dismounted and looked down at it in silence. No comments were
made. No comments were necessary. Every one knew that for lack of
water the horses were too done up to follow.
Means had dismounted a little to one side of the group, and for a
while he stood there with his arms resting on his saddle, gazing
back over the way we had come. Presently he remarked to the world
at large: Excitement has certainly been runnin' high all day. We
mounted then; and, instead of hunting the rhino farther, we rode
the jaded horses slowly into camp and put a proper finish to a
bad luck day by holding a consultation.
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