We also never saw them in water, but usually not a great distance from a marsh or stream.

They were much shier than the hartebeest and zebra, and upon seeing our approach would be the first to run away.

And by a curious chance the does seemed to know that it was the buck only that was in danger.

They would often turn to watch us, while the buck himself would keep on running until he had put many hundreds of yards between himself and the threatened danger.
Then, and then only, would he turn to watch, and it usually required careful stalking to get within gunshot of him again.
[Drawing: _Waterbuck_] The doe is not pretty, being thickly and clumsily built, with a heavy, ungraceful neck, but the buck is like a painting by Landseer, noble, graceful, and beautifully marked with white and black on his dark gray coat.
We didn't kill many waterbuck, because there is no excuse for doing so except to secure the heads as trophies.

The meat is so coarse and tough that even the porters, who seldom draw the line at eating anything their teeth can penetrate, do not care for waterbuck meat except under the stress of great hunger.