OLLEN AND OTHER HUNTING 269 



stream they came, little arms akimbo, slow, odd, blackish 

 things, tadpole days behind them, faces to the big 

 world. In wonderment they gazed on it, and marvelled. 

 The cavalcade passed, so many of them, a dozen or so 

 in advance, then the main body with flankers, next the 

 rear guard, bulgy atoms, so wise-looking, and in their 

 eyes the secrets of all mysteries. 



Stepping aside to let the procession go by we 

 suddenly came on the spoor of ollen, in whose squelched 

 imprints betraying air bubbles still rose and gasped 

 for liberty. Our hearts bounded. At least mine did 

 — I'm not quite sure whether Keebeet had a heart or 

 a stone. Our feet took on an airy nothingness, again, 

 at least, mine endeavoured to. Keebeet possessed a 

 light fantastic tread at all times, most excellent thing 

 in a hunter. In snaky, gliding motion he passed down 

 the tunnels of the trees, and carefully, silently as I 

 knew how, I followed. 



Down ! An eye signal, involving things unutterable. 

 We sank over our heads in an overwhelming sea of 

 green, to rise again to surface level. 



In an emerald circus before us, outlined against a 

 background of dusky arches, gleamed a crowned head, 

 half hidden by the undergrowth, with full glories 

 veiled. 



One of the animals which hears antlers ! 



A sudden gust of tainted air gave the alarm, and the 

 lordly stag, surrounded by a harem of three, rose 

 slowly, very slowly to his feet, and stood an instant, 

 target-wise, gazing in our direction, solemnly, question- 

 ingly, in leisurely, simple wonderment. So poetical a 



