There were a few stunted thorn trees standing about, and we took up a position behind one of them. As I have said, we were about two hundred yards away, and as they showed no disposition to run, we thought we might venture to walk boldly to another tree some distance nearer to them. There was a certain amount of risk of being charged in so doing, but we chanced it, and were perfectly successful in our design, though our quarry were manifestly uneasy. Sitting down, we waited patiently in the scorching sun for over an hour, in order to let them settle down again, so that we might approach still nearer. They gradually resumed their feeding, but not without much sniffing of the air on the part of the bulls, coupled with many suspicious glances in our direction. El Hakim thought that the best thing to do would be for me to go to another tree a hundred yards to the right. Once there we would both crawl gradually within range, and then act as circumstances might direct. I started off for the tree, and arrived without accident, although the old bull, the guardian of the herd, sniffed severe disapproval. They were evidently getting used to our presence, but it was highly improbable they would tolerate our nearer approach, should they observe it. We again waited, and then, watching El Hakim, I saw him crawl stealthily on his stomach towards another tree fifty yards nearer the herd. I followed suit on my side, suffering considerably in so doing. The vertical sun beat fiercely down, and, flattened out as I was, I felt its full effects on my back, which was protected only by a flannel shirt. The ground was covered with sharp pebbles and quartz crystals; and the long sharp thorns, blown down from the trees, pricked me cruelly, while I was tormented by a raging thirst. That fifty yards’ crawl took us twenty minutes; it seemed an age. When I arrived, panting and gasping, at my tree, I was bleeding freely from numerous cuts and scratches on my chest, elbows, and knees. However, we were now within easy range of the herd, and after resting a few minutes to steady ourselves, we prepared for action. Looking over to my left, I saw El Hakim raise his rifle, so, taking aim at the largest bull I could pick out, I let drive, followed a fraction of a second later by El Hakim. My beast jumped, staggered a few paces, with the blood streaming in showers from his mouth and nostrils, and then toppled over dead, shot through the lungs. El Hakim’s beast also staggered a few paces and went down, evidently mortally wounded. We had neither of us shot at the big bull, as at the moment of firing he was behind some of the other animals. We had then two magnificent beasts down, and did not want more, but the herd would not move away. They smelt the two carcases stamping and pawing the ground, but did not budge an inch.