CHAPTER XIII. 



A DARK NIGHT. 



A blacker night I seldom remember to have passed 

 out of doors ; in fact, it was so dense, so impene- 

 trable, that you almost imagined you could feel it, 

 but this was all in favour of the light of our fire 

 being seen at a distance, so for the present the 

 absence of our chum will be dismissed. 



The earlier hours of night had been very quiet, 

 nothing more to mark them than an occasional 

 jackal's or hyaena's voice, and once the deep ugh ! 

 ugh ! ugh ! of a prowling leopard, but the passage of 

 time was not destined to continue so monotonous. 

 Just as I was coiling up in my blankets and had lit 

 my pipe for the final smoke, Umpiqua said to 

 Sunday, sotto voce, " rhinoster," which was responded 

 to by a grunt of acquiescence. This was sufficient 

 for Dillon's ever watchful ears. " Did you say rhi- 

 noster ? Where is he ? Where is he going ? " 

 And a thousand other queries. "To water, Bass, I 

 think," said Sunday, with which Dillon seized his 

 rifle, and went off into the darkness. The madness 

 of some people is beyond explanation. Fancy going 

 out of the camp to shoot an animal, however large, 

 when you could not see a haystack five yards from 



