HUNTING THE GIRAFEE.

Otago Witness, Issue 2151, 16 May 1895, Page 42

HUNTING THE GIRAFEE.

j The bush is horribly dense and thorny, and I the thorns are of each a nature that the strongest cord breeches can scarcely witb- | stand their assaults. The old giraffe j bulls, with hides nearly an inch thick, care j for no thorn in the foreat, and plunge through i the armed thickets as though they were ' black currant bashes. There is only one thing to be done— to forget the pickle thorns and follow them. Tho spurs go in, the gallant pony springs forward, and the chase begins. It is truly headlong. Crash go the tall giants, their long necks risir.g and falling rhythmically, their heads sometimes bending low to escape a bough which all bat scrspes their withers. It is wonderful how such monstrous game can evade branches and tack this way and that among the interruptions and obstacles of the forest. It Is a tough gallop indeed, but in 10 minutes the hunter has driven his pony right up to the tail of the nearest bull, and from tho saddle has fired his shot. He falls behind a little, then clones np and firsa ogam. Both bullets, planted close to the tail, have ploughed deep into the Bhort body of the giraffe and done their work. The painted giant falters, sways, and then in an instant falls crashing to earth, carrying with him in bis ruin a stout sapling. Dark chestnut of coat (almost blick with age upon the back), this old bull, measuring 19ft from the hoof to the tip of the falsa horns, forms a noble priza indeed. As he lies there in tbo long yellow grass, be looks, surely, the Btrargest of all survivals oi the fauna of the Dark Ages ; a priceless and pathetic relic left to the modern world by the ravages of time. — The Saturday Review.