't counting them in, sir," said Buck. "We have shot them and
the she's, and the young 'uns have got away, and like enough one or two
of them has carried bullets with them."

"But do you think they are near?" asked Dean.

"Maybe yes, sir; maybe no; but I should say it would be just as well to
start as soon as we have had braxfas' and get as far on as we can before
night."

Just then there was a hail from the waggons in Dan's familiar tones, to
announce breakfast, and soon after its hasty despatch the blacks were at
work skinning the lions, aided by Dunn Brown, while Buck Denham, with
the assistance of Dan and Bob Bacon, had a busy time in securing some of
the choicest portions of the bullock that had been shot, the doctor
superintending.

Later on, before they started, the Hottentot and the two blacks were
allowed to cut off as many strips of the beef as they pleased, to hang
on the first waggon for drying in the sun.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

"WE ARE GOING WRONG."

"No, gen'lemen," said Buck, in reply to a question; "I have had four
long trips with hunting parties, and know a good deal of the country,
but this is all new to me. Mak professes to know, and I daresay he is
all right. He is clever enough at choosing good open country where my
bullocks can get along, and he never stops at a kopje without our
finding water. You see, we have got now during this last week to the
edge of the biggest piece of forest that we have had to do with, and I
am not going to interfere with him till he shows that he's a bit lost.
Here we are keeping to the edge of the trees where I can get the waggons
along and you can have plenty of sport, which gives us all enough to
eat. Oh, it's all right, gen'lemen. These niggers know what they are
about. I'd trust him, and I suppose it don't matter to you where we
are, because we can always turn back when you are tired and your stores
begin to run out."

"But Dr Robertson wants to find the ancient cities that we have heard
of. Where are they?" said Mark.

"I d'know, sir," said the man, with a laugh. "There's Mak yonder; let's
go and ask him."

Instead of going to the black, Buck Denham signed to him as he looked
their way, and the stalwart, fierce-looking fellow marched up to them,
shouldering his spear, whose broken shaft he had replaced with a finely
grown bamboo.

The questioning resulted in a certain amount of pantomime on Mak's part
and a confident display of smiles.

"Oh