These were the prettiest shots I ever recollect to have made, in
a very long experience; I had bagged four with the same rifle in
as many shots, as quickly as I could load and fire.
My Tokroori, Abdoolahi, who had been intently watching the shots
from a distance, came rushing up in hot excitement with one of my
sharp hunting knives, and, springing forward to hamstring one of
the animals, that was still struggling, he foolishly made a
downward cut, and, missing his blow, he cut his own leg terribly
across the shin, the knife flying out of his hand as it struck
against the bone: he was rendered helpless immediately. I tied up
the wound with my handkerchief, and, having at length loaded the
camel with as much meat as we could cut off the animals,
Abdoolahi was assisted upon its back; my men carried the two
finest heads. It was very late, and we now sought for a path by
which we could descend to the river.
At length we discovered a dangerous antelope-track, that
descended obliquely, by skirting an exceedingly steep side of a
hill, with a perpendicular precipice immediately below, that fell
for about seventy feet sheer to the river. My horse Tetel was as
sure-footed as a goat, therefore, having taken off my shoes to
avoid slipping, I led him to the bottom safely.
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