In the morning he rose early and taking his gun 

 and chopper set out in search of hives : he would give 

 all to the honey-bird he had cheated, and thus make 

 amends. 



He had not gone far before, to his great delight, 

 there came a welcome chattering in answer to his 

 low whistle, and the busy little fellow flew up to show 

 himself and promptly led the way, going ahead ten 

 to twenty yards at a flight. Jantje followed eagerly 

 until they came to a small donga with a sandy bottom, 

 and then the honey-bird calling briskly, fluttered from 

 tree to tree on either bank, leading him on. 



Jantje, thinking the hive must be near by, was walk- 

 ing slowly along the sandy bed and looking upwards in 

 the trees, when something on the ground caught his 

 eye and he sprang back just as the head of a big puff- 

 adder struck where his bare foot had been a moment 

 before. With one swing of his chopper he killed it; 

 he took the skin off for an ornament, the poison- 

 glands for medicine, and the fangs for charms, and then 

 whistled and looked about for the honey-bird ; but 

 it had gone. 



A little later on, however, he came upon another, 

 and it led him to a big and shady wild fig-tree. The 

 honey-bird flew to the trunk itself and cheeped and 

 chattered there, and Jantje put down his gun 

 and looked about for an easy place to climb. As 

 he peered through the foliage he met a pair of 

 large green eyes looking full into his : on a big limb 

 of the tree lay a tiger, still as death, with its head 

 resting on its paws, watching him with a cat-like 



348 



