through both lungs, and was sticking in the ribs on the other side. A shot at the head, even with an 8-bore, with hardened bullet and twelve drachms of powder, would in most cases have little effect on a buffalo, unless, of course, the beast should be sufficiently near to enable the sportsman to make sure of putting his bullet just under the frontlet of the horns into the brain; but I think that most men who have shot buffaloes would say that such a range would be far too near to be pleasant. As the chances that a head shot at a buffalo will prove fatal are so very small, this shot should be avoided altogether except in the case of a charge, where it may be the only one offered. [Illustration: ‘Often attended by birds’] Although I have killed a good many buffaloes, and under all sorts of conditions, I have only once had recourse to the head shot. This was in the district lying between Kahe and Taveta, where I was shooting in February 1887. The country was here fairly open, with numerous patches of bush dotted about, and a few small isolated rocky hills, appropriately called by one writer ‘earth boils.’ On climbing up one of these to get a better view of the surrounding country, I spied an old bull buffalo about a mile off, quietly feeding close to a patch of bush, which was about 150 yards long and about 50 yards wide, and, as the wind was favourable, I felt pretty sure of getting him without much difficulty. On arriving at the bush, I found a small low ant-heap just opposite the place where I had last seen the buffalo, and I stepped on to it to try and see exactly where he was on the other side of the bush, but could see nothing of him. As I stood on the ant-heap consulting with my gun-bearer in a low whisper, I heard the well-known hissing cry of a rhinoceros bird, and saw it fly up out of the bush on the farther side of it, a little to the left of me. The buffalo, though disturbed by the warning cry of the bird, was evidently not much alarmed, as he began to move across my front at a slow walk, and I could follow his movements by the shaking of the bush as he passed through it, but could not see him. When he was just about opposite to where I stood, he changed his course and came straight towards me, still at a slow walk, and when he arrived within a few yards of the edge immediately opposite to me, I slipped out of sight behind the ant-heap and waited for him to appear. He came to the very edge of the bush, stopped for about half a minute, and I then began to fear that he had either seen me, as I was quite out in the open, or had heard a slight noise I made in exchanging the .500 Express (always loaded on such occasions with solid bullets) for the 8-bore, when the barrels struck together. Whilst I lay on the side of the ant-heap, peeping over the top, he moved forward, and I covered the place where I saw the bush move, in readiness to fire, as he was then only 16 yards from me.