True, the plain was not a large one.

Indeed, Swartboy was rather surprised to see a pauw upon so small a one, for these birds frequent only the wide open karoos, where they can sight their enemy at a great distance.

The glade was not large, but, after watching the bustard for some minutes, the hunters saw that it was resolved to keep near the centre, and showed no disposition to feed in the direction of the thicket on either side.
Any one but a Bushman would have despaired of getting a shot at this kori; but Swartboy did not despair.
Begging the others to remain quiet, he crept forward to the edge of the jungle, and placed himself behind a thick leafy bush.

He then commenced uttering a call, exactly similar to that made by the male of the kori when challenging an adversary to combat.
Like the grouse, the bustard is polygamous, and of course terribly jealous and pugnacious, at certain seasons of the year.

Swartboy knew that it was just then the "fighting season" among the pauws, and hoped by imitating their challenge to draw the bird--a cock he saw it was-- within reach of his arrow.
As soon as the kori heard the call, he raised himself to his full height, spread his immense tail, dropped his wings until the primary feathers trailed along the grass, and replied to the challenge.
But what now astonished Swartboy was, that instead of one answer to his call, he fancied he heard _two_, simultaneously uttered! It proved to be no fancy, for before he could repeat the decoy the bird again gave out its note of defiance, and was answered by a similar call from another quarter.
Swartboy looked in the direction whence came the latter; and there, sure enough, was a second kori, that seemed to have dropped from the region of the clouds, or, more likely, had run out from the shelter of the bushes.