eans of sustaining such existence were perforce primitive, and,
foreseeing this, John Ames had managed, during their progress through
the inhabited districts, to levy upon the grain fields. But although
the supply was not yet exhausted, it had to be supplemented. There was
no grain in the mountains, wherefore it became necessary to go out and
hunt.

This primitive method of obtaining food was, however, handicapped by two
important considerations. First, there was very little game indeed,
most of that little consisted of birds--wild guinea-fowl, francolin, and
a few partridges--and the hunter, though well set up in rifle
ammunition, had no shot-gun. Much hard climbing sometimes produced a
klip-springer; but this comes under the second of the two
considerations, the inexpediency of discharging a firearm lest the
report should reach undesirable ears. Fortunately John Ames, having
been raised among natives, was an adept at throwing a kerrie, and with
this primitive weapon was able to keep the larder supplied.

It meant hard work, though. Just as he would be congratulating himself
upon having successfully stalked a troop of guinea-fowl, yet wanting a
little shorter throwing-range, the abominable birds would raise their
grating cackle of alarm, and, running like spiders through the grass,
eventually wing their way to a lofty pile of boulders. Then the stalk
had to be begun over again, involving unwearied patience and a well-nigh
superhuman display of activity; involving, too, a more or less prolonged
absence from camp.

Nidia, left alone during such absences, was obliged to summon all her
courage, all her self-command. For she felt so thoroughly alone. The
consciousness that no human being was within reach, that she stood
solitary as she looked forth upon the tossing sea of granite crags and
feathery foliage and frowning piles of rocks towering to the sky like
giants' castles, would get upon her nerves to such an extent that when
her companion was absent longer than usual she would become half frantic
with uneasiness and fear. What if he should not come back? What if he
should meet with an accident, a fall, perhaps, and perish miserably in
those grim solitudes, alone, unaided, or, what was much more likely,
allow himself to be surprised by the savage enemy? What would become of
her? And then she would take herself to task. Was it only of herself
she could think at such a time? Had she no thought for him and h