one of themselves, at last made out a word or two 

 which gave the clue. 



" They're after the wounded buffalo ! " he said. 

 " Come on, man, before they get their dogs, or we'll 

 never see him again." 



Knowing then that the buffalo was a long way ahead 

 we scrambled on as fast as we could whilst holding to 

 his track ; but it was very hot and very rough and, to 

 add to our troubles, smoke from a grass fire came 

 driving into our faces. 



"Niggers burning on the slopes ; confound them ! " 

 Francis growled. 



They habitually fire the grass in patches during the 

 summer and autumn, as soon as it is dry enough to 

 burn, in order to get young grass for the winter or the 

 early spring, and although the smoke worried us there 

 did not seem to be anything unusual about the fire. But 

 ten minutes later we stopped again ; the smoke was per- 

 ceptibly thicker ; birds were flying past us down wind, 

 with numbers of locusts and other insects ; two or three 

 times we heard buck and other animals break back ; and 

 all were going the same way. Then the same thought 

 struck us both it was stamped in our faces : this was 

 no ordinary mountain grass fire ; it was the bush. 



Francis was a quiet fellow, one of the sort it is well 

 not to rouse. His grave is in the Bushveld where his 

 unbeaten record among intrepid lion-hunters was 

 made, and where he fell in the war, leaving another 

 and greater record to his name. The blood rose 

 slowly to his face, until it was bricky red, and he looked 

 an ugly customer as he said : 

 289 T 



