So firmly do I
believe this that I generally take the rifle from my shoulder
between each shot. Even aimed rapid fire is of no great value as
compared with better aimed slower fire. The first bullet delivers
to an animal's nervous system about all the shock it can absorb.
If the beast is not thereby knocked down and held down,
subsequent shots can accomplish that desirable result only by
reaching a vital spot or by tearing tissue. As an example of this
I might instance a waterbuck into which I saw my companion empty
five heavy 465 and double 500 bullets from cordite rifles before
it fell! Thus if the game gets to its feet after the first shock,
it is true that the hunter will often empty into it six or seven
more bullets without apparent result, unless he aims carefully
for a centrally vital point. It follows that therefore a second
shot aimed with enough care to land it in that point is worth a
lot more than a half dozen delivered in three or four seconds
with only the accuracy necessary to group decently at very short
range, even if all of them hit the beast. I am perfectly aware
that this view will probably be disputed; but it is the result of
considerable experience, close observation and real interest in
the game. The whole record of the Winchester was 56 hits out of
70 cartridges fired; representing 27 head of game.
The 465 Holland & Holland double cordite rifle. This beautiful
weapon, built and balanced like a fine hammerless shotgun, was
fitted with open sights. It was of course essentially a close
range emergency gun, but was capable of accurate work at a
distance. I killed one buffalo dead with it, across a wide canyon,
with the 300-yard leaf up on the back sight. Its game list
however was limited to rhinoceroses, hippopotamuses, buffaloes
and crocodiles. The recoil in spite of its weight of twelve and
one half pounds, was tremendous; but unnoticeable when I was
shooting at any of these brutes. Its total record was 31
cartridges fired with 29 hits representing 13 head of game.
The conditions militating against marksmanship are often severe.
Hard work in the tropics is not the most steadying regime in the
world, and outside a man's nerves, he is often bothered by queer
lights, and the effects of the mirage that swirls from the
sun-heated plain. The ranges, too, are rather long. I took the
trouble to pace out about every kill, and find that antelope in the
plains averaged 245 yards; with a maximum of 638 yards, while
antelope in covered country averaged 148 yards, with a maximum of
311.
APPENDIX IV. THE AMERICAN IN AFRICA
IN WHICH HE APPEARS AS DIFFERENT FROM THE ENGLISHMAN
It is always interesting to play the other fellow's game his way,
and then, in light of experience, to see wherein our way and his
way modify each other.
The above proposition here refers to camping. We do considerable
of it in our country, especially in our North and West. After we
have been at it for some time, we evolve a method of our own. The
basis of that method is to do without; to GO LIGHT. At first even
the best of us will carry too much plunder, but ten years of
philosophy and rainstorms, trails and trials, will bring us to an
irreducible minimum. A party of three will get along with two
pack horses, say; or, on a harder trip, each will carry the
necessities on his own back. To take just as little as is
consistent with comfort is to play the game skilfully. Any
article must pay in use for its transportation.
With this ideal deeply ingrained by the test of experience, the
American camper is appalled by the caravan his British cousins
consider necessary for a trip into the African back country. His
said cousin has, perhaps, very kindly offered to have his outfit
ready for him when he arrives. He does arrive to find from one
hundred to one hundred and fifty men gathered as his personal
attendants.
"Great Scot!" he cries, "I want to go camping; I don't want to
invade anybody's territory. Why the army?"
He discovers that these are porters, to carry his effects.
"What effects?" he demands, bewildered. As far as he knows, he
has two guns, some ammunition, and a black tin box, bought in
London, and half-filled with extra clothes, a few medicines, a
thermometer, and some little personal knick-knacks. He has been
wondering what else he is going to put in to keep things from
rattling about. Of course he expected besides these to take along
a little plain grub, and some blankets, and a frying pan and
kettle or so.
The English friend has known several Americans, so he explains
patiently.
"I know this seems foolish to you," he says, "but you must
remember you are under the equator and you must do things
differently here. As long as you keep fit you are safe; but if
you get run down a bit you'll go. You've got to do yourself well,
down here, rather better than you have to in any other climate.
You need all the comfort you can get; and you want to save
yourself all you can."
This has a reasonable sound and the American does not yet know
the game. Recovering from his first shock, he begins to look
things over. There is a double tent, folding camp chair, folding
easy chair, folding table, wash basin, bath tub, cot, mosquito
curtains, clothes hangers; there are oil lanterns, oil carriers,
two loads of mysterious cooking utensils and cook camp stuff;
there is an open fly, which his friend explains is his dining
tent; and there are from a dozen to twenty boxes standing in a
row, each with its padlock.
