in the thorn bush ; there are plenty of them to be 

 found in the Bushveld spaces a few hundred yards 

 in diameter, like open park land, where not a single 

 tree breaks the expanse of wavy yellow grass. The 

 waggons with their greyish tents and buck sails and 

 dusty wood-work stood in the fringe of the trees 

 where this little arena touched the road, and into it 

 sallied Buggins, gently drawn by the benevolent purpose 

 of giving us a treat. What he hoped to find in the 

 open on that sweltering day he only could tell ; we 

 knew that no living thing but lizards would be out 

 of the shade just then, but we wanted to find him 

 employment harmless to him and us. 



He had been gone for more than half an hour when 

 we heard a shot, and a few minutes later Jimmy's 

 voice roused us. 



" What the dickens is Buggins doing ? " he asked 

 in a tone so puzzled and interested that we all turned 

 to watch that sportsman. According to Jimmy, 

 he had been walking about in an erratic way for some 

 time on the far side of the open ground going from 

 the one end to the other and then back again ; then dis- 

 appearing for a few minutes in the bush and re-appear- 

 ing to again manoeuvre in the open in loops and circles, 

 angles and straight lines. Now he was walking about 

 at a smart pace, looking from side to side apparently 

 searching for something. We could see the whole of 

 the arena as clearly as you can see a cricket-field from 

 the railings for our waggon formed part of the 

 boundary but we could see nothing to explain 

 Buggins's manoeuvres. Next we saw him face the 



128 



