We stood now in the shade of trees with great smooth trunks, circled at their base with the line of roots that showed in rounded ridges up the trunks like arteries, the trunks the yellow green of a French forest on a day in winter after rain. But these trees had a great spread of branches and were in leaf and below them, in the stream bed in the sun, reeds like papyrus grass grew thick as wheat and twelve feet tall. There was a game trail through the grass along the stream and Droopy was bent down looking at it. M’Cola went over and looked and they both followed it a little way, stooped close over it, then came back to us.
‘Nyati,’ M’Cola whispered. ‘Buffalo.’ Droopy whispered to Pop and then Pop said, softly in his throaty, whisky whisper, ‘They’re buff gone down the river. Droop says there are some big bulls. They haven’t come back.’
‘Let’s follow them,’ I said. ‘I’d rather get another buff than rhino.’
‘It’s as good a chance as any for rhino, too,’ Pop said.
‘By God, isn’t it a great looking country?’ I said.
‘Splendid,’ Pop said. ‘Who would have imagined it?’
‘The trees are like Andre’s pictures,’ P.O.M. said. ‘It’s simply beautiful. Look at that green. It’s Masson. Why can’t a good painter see this country?’
‘How are your boots?’
‘Fine.’
As we trailed the buffalo we went very slowly and quietly. There was no wind and we knew that when the breeze came up it would be from the east and blow up the canyon toward us. We followed the game trail down the river-bed and as we went the grass was much higher. Twice we had to get down to crawl and the reeds were so thick you could not see two feet into them. Droop found a fresh rhino track, too, in the mud. I began to think about what would happen if a rhino came barging along this tunnel and who would do what. It was exciting but I did not like it. It was too much like being in a trap and there was P.O.M. to think about. Then as the stream made a bend and we came out of the high grass to the bank I smelled game very distinctly. I do not smoke, and hunting at home I have several times smelled elk in the rutting season before I have seen them, and I can smell clearly where an old bull has lain in the forest. The bull elk has a strong musky smell. It is a strong but pleasant odour and I know it well, but this smell I did not know.
‘I can smell them,’ I whispered to Pop. He believed me.
‘What is it?’
‘I don’t know but it’s plenty strong. Can’t you?’
‘No.’
‘Ask Droop.’
Droopy nodded and grinned.
‘They take snuff,’ Pop said. ‘I don’t know whether they can scent or not.’
We went on into another bed of reeds that were high over our heads, putting each foot down silently before lifting the other, walking as quietly as in a dream or a slow motion picture. I could smell whatever it was clearly now, all of the time, sometimes stronger than at others. I did not like it at all. We were close to the bank now, and ahead, the game trail went straight out into a long slough of higher reeds than any we had come through.
‘I can smell them close as hell,’ I whispered to Pop. ‘No kidding. Really.’
‘I believe you,’ Pop said. ‘Should we get up here on to the bank and skirt this bit? We’ll be above it.’
‘Good.’ Then, when we were up, I said. ‘That tall stun’ had me spooked. I wouldn’t like to hunt in that.’
‘How’d you like to hunt elephant in that?’ Pop whispered.
‘I wouldn’t do it.’
‘Do you really hunt elephant in grass like that?’ P.O.M. asked.
‘Yes,’ Pop said. ‘Get up on somebody’s shoulders to shoot.’
Better men than I am do it, I thought. I wouldn’t do it.
We went along the grassy right bank, on a sort of shelf, now in the open, skirting a slough of high dry reeds. Beyond on the opposite bank were the heavy trees and above them the steep bank of the canyon. You could not see the stream. Above us, on the right, were the hills, wooded in patches of orchard bush. Ahead, at the end of the slough of reeds the banks narrowed and the branches of the big trees almost covered the stream. Suddenly Droopy grabbed me and we both crouched down. He put the big gun in my hand and took the Springfield. He pointed and around a curve in the bank I saw the head of a rhino with a long, wonderful-looking horn. The head was swaying and I could see the ears forward and twitching, and see the little pig eyes. I slipped the safety catch and motioned Droopy down. Then I heard M’Cola saying, ‘Toto! Toto!’ and he grabbed my arm. Droopy was whispering, ‘Manamouki! Manamouki! Manamouki!’ very fast and he and M’Cola were frantic that I should not shoot. It was a cow rhino with a calf, and as I lowered the gun she gave a snort, crashed in the reeds, and was gone. I never saw the calf. We could see the reeds swaying where the two of them were moving and then it was all quiet.