THE KALAHARI DESERT. 
5 
lair. Shall I wake up and feel the grip of his teeth, 
and the laceration of his claws, or shall I merely hear 
him tearing my flesh, and crushing my bones, without 
feeling the pain ? Stay ! there is a whining noise close 
at hand ; now comes the snuffling sound of some animal ; 
a quick breathing in my ear. There is no escape. In 
another moment his teeth will meet in my flesh. I 
might have met with a more painful death, but hardly 
with a more horrible one. I had always said I should 
like to die with my boots on : one must meet death 
WALL DRAWINGS IN HILL-BUSHMEN'S CAVE. 
some time, and the exact way and whereabouts are 
not of much importance. But still this suited me a 
little too much. The idea of travelling all these miles 
to become food for wild beasts, of knowing that my 
last moment had come, and yet lying powerless to 
move a muscle to save myself — this was more than I 
had bargained for. Hark ! I can hear another distant 
sound ; my prowling visitor is waiting for his friends 
to come to the feast. Stay ! Is that a roar ? No ! 
That is a human voice. “Bull! Bull!” It is Kert’s 
voice, calling to my dog. Now the whining at my 
side has ceased, and I can hear Bull barking, in answer 
