After a lively gallop of several miles, passing within the cordon of watchful sentinels, always found on the outskirts, we struck a herd numbering several thousand animals. Our approach had already been signalled and the herd was moving off at a rapid pace. There was no time to lose. Each one of the party singled out his animal, and putting spurs to his horse dashed after, striving to get abreast his game at a distance of a few paces, in order to deliver his fire. The General led off in the charge followed by Merryman, who, accustomed to salt water navigation, swayed from side to side. He, however, maintained a vigorous hold upon the pummel of the saddle, bounded into the air and returned emphatically, but not always gracefully, into his saddle with every leap of his horse. The General, after considerable manœuvering, managed to separate a fine cow from her companions. The chase was quite spirited for several hundred yards, but a well directed shot under the shoulder, which very summarily suspended the powers of locomotion on the part of the buffalo, put a termination to the race. Several of the party soon became busily engaged on their own account in the exciting sport. One young bull, of irate temper, finding himself selected as a target, undertook to show fight and turned upon his pursuer. For some minutes the characters were reversed, and, judging from appearances, it might have been supposed that the buffalo was the hunter. In the course of an hour five animals were killed. Most of the horses, however, were perfectly “green,” and consequently no use whatever, except to follow, giving the rider an opportunity to witness the sport without participating in it.