“We had been creeping about the bush in the uncomfortable manner I have described for about an hour, when we came suddenly upon a little circular opening some fifty or sixty yards in diameter. As we approached the edge of this open space, advancing very cautiously in a stooping attitude down a hippopotamus-path, my guide suddenly dropped to the ground. As he did so, I got a clear view past him, and saw standing amongst the grass and bush, just on the further side of the opening, what I knew was an _Inyala_ ewe, as I could distinctly see it was reddish in colour. I could see no other animal near her, and, as I required two specimens of _Inyala_ ewes, the one for the British and the other for the South-African Museum, I lost no time about firing at the animal in question, which I saw drop instantly to the shot. But even as she did so, there appeared in her place, or very close to where she had stood, a great black shaggy form, which, indistinctly as I could see it in the deep shadow of the bush, I knew was an _Inyala_ ram, the first that my eyes had ever looked upon in the flesh. My rifle was a single-barrelled one; and before I could fire the shot that might make that rare and beautiful beast mine, I had to open the breech of my rifle, take another cartridge from my belt, slip it into the chamber, close the breech again, and then raise the rifle to my shoulder and take aim. All this meant time and noise. Would the _Inyala_, which stood like a statue by the dead body of its mate, give me the few seconds I required to take his own life too? I little thought he would; but he did; and as I raised my rifle once more, and took a quick but careful sight at his dark shoulder, I felt, as I pulled the trigger, that he was mine. “As the report of the rifle sounded, he plunged madly forward and was instantly lost to sight in the thick scrub. But I felt sure he carried death with him, and so it proved, for we found him lying dead not twenty yards from where he had stood when the bullet struck him. The fatal missile had passed right through his shoulders, and, having expanded on impact, had torn his heart to pieces. I had the dead ewe brought to where the ram had fallen, and laid them side by side; and then stood admiring them for a long time before I could bring myself to skin them. To thus secure a very fine pair of _Inyala_ Antelopes—whose excellently-mounted skins are now safe in the Mammalian Gallery of the new Natural History Museum in Cromwell Road—on the very first day I had hunted for them, and after a little more than an hour’s search, was indeed a most glorious and exceptional piece of good fortune; which, however, has been balanced by many and many a day that I can remember of unrequited labour in search of game.