We were after rhebok, the dun kind, and I recollected how we had followed one beast, and both he and I had clean lost it.

A greyhound works by sight, and my eyes are good enough, but that buck simply leaked out of the landscape.

Afterwards I found out how it managed it.

Against the grey rock of the kopjes it showed no more than a crow against a thundercloud.

It didn't need to run away; all it had to do was to stand still and melt into the background.
Suddenly as these memories chased across my brain I thought of my present case and applied the moral.