The eastern sky showed just enough light for me to walk without a flashlight. A set of tracks, slightly smaller than the palm of my hand, led me down the sandy road. I knelt and studied them.

They were cat tracks, and fresh. The sand in the pad marks was still damp, the track edges still crisp. The leopard had walked ahead of me only a short time before.

I started to turn back. An arrow fired from the Jennings Sonic XL I was carrying wouldn't make a leopard even slow down. And if I shot the cat with the 9mm DP51 riding on my hip, all I'd do would be make him mad.

But the sun was just a half hour from rising, and leopards are creatures of the African night. I looked at the pink-and-orange streaked sky and decided to go on.

On my right, a brushy ridge paralleled the road. To the left, an expanse of summer-dry veldt stretched to the river swamp, broken by an occasional bush. The grass stood taller than my knees, and the rough ground hidden underneath made walking treacherous.

Close to the road, I could see three horned animals grazing. As I approached they moved away from me until they were half way to the deep green of the trees along the river. In the uncertain light I couldn't tell what they were, but I thought they were impala.

I stepped off the road and onto the veldt. The grass didn't crackle like it would later in the day; now, it was heavy with dew. Sneaking from bush to bush, I worked my way to within about 75 yards of them. By now the sun was up, and I could tell they were waterbuck, not the impala rams I was hunting. I eased away, leaving them to their grazing.

AFRICAN HUNTING HAS TEMPTED me for years. When I had the opportunity to travel to South Africa to hunt impala and wildebeest and warthog I took it, despite the uncertain politics of the region. I found that the situation there isn't as violent as our news media would have it, but that the hunting lives up to everything I've ever heard.

Caskett's Ranch, where I was hunting, once was a cattle ranch. But a combination of poor economics and a drought that began 10 years ago forced owner Rocco Gioia to take a hard look at his operation. He sold off his cattle and turned the ranch into a hunting preserve where guests can bowhunt for a variety of species including blesbok, kudu, zebra, and duiker, and of course warthog, impala, and wildebeest. Located just outside Kruger National Park, Caskett's Ranch also is home to other beautiful animals: white rhinos, giraffes, secretive leopards.

After I crossed back over the road, I started slowly up the ridge in front of the main lodge. I was only a few feet into the trees when movement ahead made me freeze. Half a dozen impala rams stood just beyond the crest of the ridge. I worked my way closer.

They started blowing, sounding like a bunch of big old whitetail does. One was hoarse, like a wheezy old man. I stood perfectly still; I didn't think they had seen me yet, because they were looking to my right. After several minutes they stopped snorting. I risked a look over my right shoulder and saw one of the maids from the lodge walking up the road.

The rams moved. They got behind the crest of the ridge where I couldn't see them. After a minute I could hear two of them pushing and shoving one another and grunting; the clash of horns was clearly audible.

THEY MOVED INTO THE WIND and I followed, not sure where they would break out of the brush. Then one of them caught sight of me and started blowing again. I knelt down and waited. My feet went to sleep in my boots, and the little black veldt flies nibbled so hard on my bare skin I could scarcely keep still.

Finally the rams became quiet again. I stood up and looked over the ridge. All I could see of them was their horn tips, outlined sharply against the sun. Ahead of them, the crashing sound of a big animal came closer and closer through the bush.

At first I thought it was a kudu, because it was so big. Then a brown and black gemsbok stepped out of the bush and into the sunlight. His horns were huge, larger than the horns on the mount in the lodge. I made a quick judgment: the gemsbok was 45 yards away. I drew the bow, set my 40-yard pin just above his shoulder, and released the arrow. The arrow struck hard--between his feet.

The gemsbok broke into an easy lope. He crossed the road and disappeared into the river swamp, still just trotting along.

Behind me, the impala exploded into a frenzy of blowing and snorting. They fled across the veldt, horns and hooves flashing in the sun. So much for stalking a ram that morning.

I PACED OFF THE DISTANCE to where the gemsbok had been. Sixty-five yards, and out of bow range. He was so big I had underestimated his distance from me by 20 yards.

I stalked those same impala rams half a dozen times in the two weeks I hunted at Caskett's Ranch. I never did get a good shot at any of them. But I think I have them figured out. Just where they come out of the bush, termites have built a mound about three feet tall. Next year I'm going to set up on that mound and see if I can't get one of those impala rams--big boys, all--for dinner.

Sidebar: Getting There

Now that sanctions have been lifted, travel to South Africa is once again easy. South African Airways flies once a week from Miami and four times a week from New York.

Round trip coach fares range from $1,400 to $1,800. But expect first-class treatment even in the coach section. In-flight movies, gourmet meals, and excellent South African wines help the 15-hour flight pass easily.

Bowhunters traveling to Africa have an advantage over gun hunters: with group rates, African bowhunts can be very inexpensive. In many cases, the cost of an African bowhunt is less than the cost of a western elk hunt.

For more information about booking hunts at Rocco Gioia's Caskett's Ranch, or for details on fees and travel arrangements, contact African Safaris, P. O. Box 808, Canon City, CO 81215.