A SECRET OF THE ORANGE RIVER. 185 



" ' Allemaghte ! it is a tiger * (leopard) , sieur,' 

 cried the Bushman, ' and he has clawed one of 

 the dogs.' 



" True enough, on inspecting the yelping sufferer, 

 Rooi-kat, a brindled red dog, and one of the best 

 of my pack, I found the poor wretch at its last 

 gasp, with its throat and neck almost torn to 

 ribbons. Nothing could save the unfortunate animal, 

 the blood streamed from its open throat, and, after 

 a convulsive kick or two, it stretched itself out, and 

 lay there dead. Cursing the sneaking, cowardly 

 leopard, I saw that the replenished fires blazed 

 up, and again turned in. 



" It must have been about two o'clock in the 

 morning, the coldest, the most silent, and the 

 dreariest of the dark hours — that fatal hour betwixt 

 night and day, when many a flickering life, unloosed 

 by death, slips from its moorings — when I was 

 again startled from slumber by a most blood- 

 curdling yell. Hunters, as you know, sleep light, 

 and seem instinctively to be aware of what passes 

 around them, even although apparently wrapped in 

 profoundest sleep. I knew in a moment that that 

 agonised cry came from a human throat, and 

 headlong from my kartel f I dashed. God ! what 

 a din was there again from dogs, men, and oxen, 

 and, above all, those horrid human screams. I had 

 my loaded rifle, and rushing up to a confused crowd 

 struggling near the firelight, I saw in a moment 

 what had happened. 



" The youngest of my servants, a mere Bechuana 



* At the Cape the leopard is invariably known by the Dutch misnomer 

 of " tiger." 



t Kartel, a sleeping framework fitted up in Cape waggons. 



