es saw them plainly enough, but they got to within four
hundred yards before the herd began to shift. All drew rein instantly,
the trained horses standing stone still, and just as the herd took
alarm and broke into their lumbering, awkward-looking gallop, the six
rifles rang out.

The lighter weapons of the Indians seemed to have no effect. Charlie saw
the bull at which he aimed stagger and go down. Another stopped with a
broken shoulder, and Jack's second barrel finished it. Schoverling fired
again, but either missed a vital place or his bullet went wide, for a
moment later the herd was gone in a cloud of dust.

"Never mind," he cried gayly, reloading as they trotted forward. "Two
will be all we can carry in, and will help out wonderfully. They are
poor eating for us, but the Masai will be overjoyed."

Reaching the two dead giraffes, all leaped from their horses and set
about cutting up the bodies. At last it was finished. Spattered with
blood, the boys got the heavy loads on their quivering, blood-sniffing
horses after some delay, and set about returning to the wagon.

"Where is it?" exclaimed the explorer. "Surely we can't have lost it?"

But, even with their powerful glasses, no sign could they see of the
little safari. In all directions the plain stretched out dry, white,
dusty, with no moving speck to break the monotony. The general cased his
glasses in disgust.

"I was so interested in giving you my warning that I forgot to take any
thought of our direction, and the doctor has my compass. Let's
see--we've been riding about northeast."

"Here," cried Jack, pointing to the dusty plain, "there's no wind, so we
can follow the tracks. It's a cinch."

"Of course," laughed the explorer, and with Jack and Charlie in the lead
all six began retracing their steps. But it was not so easy to follow
the trail, after the dust had settled down upon it, and it was an hour
later before the white tilt of the wagon was seen, far to the southwest.

"We came more east than north, evidently," said Schoverling. "However,
all's well that ends well. Don't gallop, Akram; we must go easy on the
horses!"

They were soon up to the wagon and were greeted with a joyful yell by
the Masai, who had no scruples about partaking of the raw meat. Knowing
their tastes, the explorer had filled two or three gourds with the blood
of the slain giraffes, which the natives drank greedily. The boys were
disgusted, and sought refuge at the head of t