always come on this
undertaking alone. And I came mighty near losing my life, as well as
the horse."

"By Jove, what a fellow you are, Fanning! I believe if I were to knock
around here in this infernal desert by myself for a week it would about
drive me mad."

The other smiled slightly.

"Would it? Well, I suppose I'm used to it. But, wait a bit. You call
this an infernal desert. It's nothing to what we shall find ourselves
in further on. And now, I think we'll camp here. You don't want to go
out shooting, I suppose? We have enough to last us for a day or two; in
fact, as much as will keep."

Three guinea-fowl and a brace of red koorhaan, also three brace of
partridges, were slung across the pack-horse. Sellon replied with an
emphatic negative. The heat of the day's journey had knocked the bottom
out of even his sportsmanlike tendencies, he said.

They offsaddled the horses, and having led them down to the river to
drink, knee-haltered them more closely than usual, and turned them loose
to graze. Then, taking a hatchet, Renshaw proceeded to cut a number of
mimosa boughs--large, spreading, and thorny. These, in an incredibly
short space of time, he had beaten up into a most effective kraal.

"What's all that about, old man?" said Sellon, who, characteristically,
was taking it easy, and lay on the ground at full length, blowing out
clouds of tobacco. "There are no lions here, surely!"

"There used to be one or two. I've heard them on former occasions. But
they're mighty scarce--almost extinct. Still, it's as well to be on the
safe side."

As the last faint kiss of after-glow faded from the iron-bound peaks,
merging into the pearly grey of night, the horses were driven in and
securely picketed within the impromptu enclosure. Then blazed forth the
ruddy flames of a cheery camp-fire, over which some of the birds were
promptly hissing and sputtering. The small keg of Cango brandy which
they had brought with them was broached, and under the influence of a
good supper, washed down with good liquor, Sellon's mercurial spirits
revived.

"By Jove, but this is what I call real jolly!" he cried, throwing
himself back on a rug, and proceeding to fill and light his pipe.
"Hallo! What the deuce was that?"

"Not a lion this time," said the other, tranquilly, as a long-drawn howl
arose upon the night. It echoed weirdly among the great cliffs, dying
away in a wild wail. "Only a wolf [Hyaena]. Plenty of