ted with the new scenes around
them.

Although all the young people were inclined to be happy, yet they were
checked in their expression of it, by observing that there was a cloud
on the brow of their father. He had seated himself under the great
tree, but his eyes were upon the ground, as though he were busy with
painful reflections. All of them noticed this.

His reflections were, indeed, painful--they could not well have been
otherwise. There was but one course left for him--to return to the
settlements, and begin life anew. But how to begin it? What could he
do? His property all gone, he could only serve some of his richer
neighbours; and for one accustomed all his life to independence, this
would be hard indeed.

He looked towards his five horses, now eagerly cropping the luxuriant
grass that grew under the shadow of the cliffs. When would they be
ready to trek back again? In three or four days he might start. Fine
animals, most of them were--they would carry the wagon lightly enough.

So ran the reflections of the field-cornet. He little thought at the
moment that those horses would never draw wagon more, nor any other
vehicle. He little thought that those five noble brutes were doomed!

Yet so it was. In less than a week from that time, the jackals and
hyenas were quarrelling over their bones. Even at that very moment,
whilst he watched them browsing, the poison was entering their veins,
and their death-wounds were being inflicted. Alas! alas! another blow
awaited Von Bloom.

The field-cornet had noticed, now and again, that the horses seemed
uneasy as they fed. At times they started suddenly, whisked their long
tails, and rubbed their heads against the bushes.

"Some fly is troubling them," thought he, and had no more uneasiness
about the matter.

It was just that--just a fly that was troubling them. Had Von Bloom
known what that fly was, he would have felt a very different concern
about his horses. Had he known the nature of that little fly, he would
have rushed up with all his boys, caught the horses in the greatest
hurry, and led them far away from those dark cliffs. But he knew not
the "tsetse" fly.

It still wanted some minutes of sunset, and the horses were permitted to
browse freely, but Von Bloom observed that they were every moment
getting more excited--now striking their hoofs upon the turf,--now
running a length or two--and at intervals snorting angrily. At the
distance