We left at first light and by 7:30 had picked up the spoor of a large herd, probably the same one we had chased two days before. The prints appeared to have been made earlier in the morning; the dung was soft. Fabian and Pius followed the track into some woods, then out into a meadow of golden grass dotted with trees. The easterly wind favored us, though I had learned not to trust it. After an hour we sighted the animals, resembling huge, gray-black boulders, some 200 yards away. It was the back end of the herd. Bulls are almost always in the lead, so we cut off to the left, cautiously working our way around to come nearer the front. The buffalo plodded into thicker scrub, lowing, bellowing, and breaking branches.