66 THE WILD AVENGERS. 
down, eating grass as though he were eating 
against time for a wager. Then his mouth 
frothed. Then he was sick. Then he rolled 
over. Then he died. 
And up in the tree, scarcely seventy yards 
away, practically invisible, with its green tunic 
among the green foliage, the mamba lay coolly 
coiled, staring vacantly at nothing. 
When the sun rose in purple splendour 
again next dawn, and the guinea-fowls began 
to fly down from the trees, and the great big 
bats began to take their places, the dead jackal 
' was gone. 
It was not the snake, however, which had 
eaten him, for that was beyond it. Moreover, 
the mamba is an aristocrat, and no eater of 
carrion. 
As the sun grew hot it came down, moving 
with wonderful ease and absence of effort; 
down to the spot where it had lain the day 
before, and there, stretched at length, it 
basked, silent, deadly, and inscrutable as ever. 
It must have gone to sleep again, for it 
never saw the negro, spear in hand, who came 
trotting along the open game-path an hour 
later. Nor did the native see it. ; 
Again there was the whip-lash stroke, fol- 
lowed by a yell from the savage, the gleam of 
the spear through the air, the rush of the 
