The Instant He Starts, He Must Be Pressed - It Is The Speed
That Tells Upon Him, And The Spurs Must
Be at work at the very
commencement of the hunt, and the horse pressed along at his best pace;
it
Must be a race at top speed from the start, but, should the giraffe
be allowed the slightest advantage for the first five minutes, the race
will be against the horse.
I was riding "Filfil," my best horse for speed, but utterly useless for
the gun. I had a common regulation-sword hanging on my saddle in lieu of
the long Arab broadsword that I had lost at Obbo, and starting at full
gallop at the same instant as the giraffes, away we went over the
beautiful park. Unfortunately Richarn was a bad rider, and I, being
encumbered with a rifle, had no power to use the sword. I accordingly
trusted to ride them down and to get a shot, but I felt that the
unsteadiness of my horse would render it very uncertain. The wind
whistled in my ears as we flew along over the open plain. The grass was
not more than a foot high, and the ground hard; the giraffes about four
hundred yards distant steaming along, and raising a cloud of dust from
the dry earth, as on this side of the mountains there had been no rain.
Filfil was a contradiction; he loved a hunt and had no fear of wild
animals, but he went mad at the sound of a gun. Seeing the magnificent
herd of about fifteen giraffes before him, the horse entered into the
excitement and needed no spur - down a slight hollow, flying over the dry
buffalo holes, now over a dry watercourse and up the incline on the
other side - then again on the level, and the dust in my eyes from the
cloud raised by the giraffes showed that we were gaining in the race;
misericordia! - low jungle lay before us - the giraffes gained it, and
spurring forward through a perfect cloud of dust now within a hundred
yards of the game we shot through the thorny bushes. In another minute
or two I was close up, and a splendid bull giraffe was crashing before
me like a locomotive obelisk through the mimosas, bending the elastic
boughs before him in his irresistible rush, which sprang back with a
force that would have upset both horse and rider had I not carefully
kept my distance. The jungle seemed alive with the crowd of orange red,
the herd was now on every side, as I pressed the great bull before me.
Oh for an open plain! I was helpless to attack, and it required the
greatest attention to keep up the pace through the thick mimosas without
dashing against their stems and branches. The jungle became thicker, and
although I was in the middle of the herd and within ten yards of several
giraffes, I could do nothing. A mass of thick and tangled thorns now
received them, and closed over the hardly-contested race - I was beaten.
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