of an ordinary shot gun.  Another peculiar thing about them is, that they are for the most part covered with a dense growth of the Orchilla moss; and from this moss the natives manufacture a most excellent deep purple dye, with which they stain tanned hides and also cloth, when they happen to get any of the latter.  I do not think that I ever saw anything more remarkable than the appearance of one of these mighty trees festooned from top to bottom with trailing wreaths of this sad-hued moss, in which the wind whispers gently as it stirs them.  At a distance it looks like the gray locks of a Titan crowned with bright green leaves, and here and there starred with the rich bloom of orchids.

“The night of that day on which I had my little difference of opinion with Gobo, we camped by the edge of this great forest, and on the following morning at daylight I started out shooting.  As we were short of meat I determined to kill a buffalo, of which there were plenty about, before looking for traces of elephants.  Not more than half a mile from camp we came across a trail broad as a cart-road, evidently made by a great herd of buffaloes which had passed up at dawn from their feeding ground in the marshes, to spend the day in the cool air of the uplands.  This trail I followed boldly; for such wind as there was blew straight down the mountain-side, that is, from the direction in which the buffaloes had gone, to me.  About a mile further on the forest began to be dense, and the nature of the trail showed me that I must be close to my game.  Another two hundred yards and the bush was so thick that, had it not been for the trail, we could scarcely have passed through it.  As it was, Gobo, who carried my eight-bore rifle (for I had the .570-express in my hand), and the other two men whom I had taken with me, showed the very strongest dislike to going any further, pointing out that there was ‘no room to run away.’  I told them that they need not come unless they liked, but that I was certainly going on; and then, growing ashamed, they came.

“Another fifty yards, and the trail opened into a little glade.  I knelt down and peeped and peered, but no buffalo could I see.  Evidently the herd had broken up here—­I knew that from the spoor—­and penetrated the opposite bush in little troops.  I crossed the glade, and choosing one line of spoor, followed it for some sixty yards, when it became clear to me that I was surrounded by buffaloes; and yet so dense was the cover that I could not see any.  A few yards to my left I could hear one rubbing its horns against a tree, while from my right came an occasional low and throaty grunt which told me that I was uncomfortably near an old bull.  I crept on towards him with my heart in my mouth, as gently as though I were walking upon eggs for a bet, lifting every little bit of wood in my path, and placing it behind me lest it should crack and warn the game.  After me in single file came my three retainers, and