I fired my remaining barrel at the herd, but I must have missed, as none fell.

I immediately stepped the distance to the dead buck, 187 paces.

I had fired a little too high, and missed his body, but the ball struck him in the neck and had broken his spine.

A successful flying shot at this distance has a very pretty effect, and Banda was delighted.
There were very few elephants at this season at the Park, and the numberless 'ticks' which swarmed in the grass, spoilt all the pleasure of shooting.

These little wretches, which are not larger than a small grain of gunpowder, find their way to every part of the body, and the irritation of their bites is indescribable.