A MORNING AMBUSCADE ON WITTEBERG. 273 



bold fellow when he thinks he is safe and unobserved, 

 as indeed he mostly is up here ; and, unseen, we can 

 admire his ruddy brown back and tail, and his dark 

 blue head and throat. Then, in his innocence, he 

 boldly faces us, showing his fine rufous chest and 

 stomach. Presently, after picking up an insect or 

 two, he perks his head round at his lady, who 

 follows closely behind him, and they suddenly stop, 

 and then, spreading their wings, fly upwards to a 

 projecting rock, where the fuller strength of the 

 sunlight can be felt. Immediately the male bird 

 bursts into a bold and pleasing song ; his notes are 

 clear and full, and we listen to him with interested 

 ears, for he reminds us of our own feathered songsters 

 at home in England. Another bird flits from rock 

 to rock close to us on our left — a tiny finch, not 

 much larger than a tom-tit, commonly known in the 

 Colony by its Boer name of streep-kopje (little 

 stripe-head). It is a quaint little grey fellow, black 

 striped upon its upper parts, and having its head 

 plainly marked on either side with white and black 

 stripings. Its piping note is not unpleasant, as it 

 searches hither and thither for its morning meal. 

 Suddenly, starting as if from space, comes soaring 

 above us a great black mountain eagle. We know 

 him at once for a berghaan (cock of the mountain) 

 or dassie-vanger (coney-eater). He is evidently 

 watching some object below — probably the antelopes 

 we are waiting for — and doubtless, keen sportsman 

 that he is, he has been the first of all the birds up 

 here to sally forth from his rocky eyrie in search of a 

 good meat breakfast. 



At length Tobias nudges me, and instantly our 

 sporting instincts are aroused and acutely alert. 



