e! it was a narrow squeak. I would have yelled
like fits."

"I did yell."

Muata pointed to the ground.

"Blood spoor, eh? You did hit him. Put the jackal on the track,
chief," said Mr. Hume.

The jackal took one sniff at the ground, stared sharply around, then
peered up into his master's face.

"Search," said the chief, in his own tongue. "Follow the great one,
O little friend. The trail is laid; the great one has sought out a
moist spot; he lies angry and sore in the shade. Search and find."

The jackal looked intently into the chiefs face, sniffed at the
ground, ran forward a few yards, stopped, sniffed again with lifted
mane at a spot where the grass was pressed down, threw up his head
with eyes half closed, then ran down towards the river, stopping on
the bank to look back.

"That is where he joined his mate. There is the spoor on the sand
going and returning. That is the round pad of the lion; just note
and compare it with the pads of the lioness over there. Just look,
and read the writing."

The two boys looked at the marks in the sand, and followed them down
to the moist ground on the edge of the water.

"They entered the river side by side," they said.

"That is plain; but the writing tells another story. See, this
footprint here is faint--very faint, eh? He did not rest his weight
on his left fore-foot. Why, eh?"

"Because the bullet struck the left front leg," they both said.

"They learn the signs, Muata. They will be hunters yet. Tell them if
the lion be hard hit, chief."

Muata waded into the river, which reached to his armpits at the
deepest, and bent over something on the further shore. They
undressed, and waded through to him.

"Congela," he said, pointing to the bank. "The great ones came out
here. The great, great one was not sore hurt, for he came right
through, using all his feet to swim."

"It will be luck, then, if we find him," said the hunter.

"Bad luck," muttered Compton to Venning, with a grin.

"Forward, little friend!" cried Muata. "Search and find. It is a
great hunt this day. We follow the hunter of all things."

They slipped into their clothes and followed at a trot after the
jackal, which ran straight on, its bushy tail held low. It followed
the river down for a mile or so, then stopped, looking back at its
master.

Mr. Hume and the chief stood silently inspecting the hard ground,
then they walked on a few yards. The same thoughts seemed to come to
each, as