an stumbling after it until they came to an open stretch
of ground which led them to the edge of a small plain. Here they
simultaneously discovered that no duiker was to be seen, though they
observed a troop of quaggas far out of range, and a hartebeest in the
distance. The former, observing them, kicked up their heels, and dashed
away into the mountains. The latter, a handsome creature, the size of
an average pony and fleet as a stag, bounded into the jungle.

"No use going after these," said Rivers, with a wistful gaze.

"No, sir,--none w'atever."

"Better keep to the jungle and be ready next time," said the young
sportsman. "We mustn't talk, Jerry."

"No, sir; mum's the word. But 'ow if we should meet with a lion?"

"Shoot it of course. But there is no such luck in store for us."

After this the hunters proceeded with greater caution. As they kept in
the thick bush, they frequently startled animals, which they heard
leaping up and bursting through the underwood, but seldom got a glimpse,
and never a shot.

"Tantalising, ain't it, sir?"

"Hush!"

They issued on another open space at this point, and, seeing a thick bed
of sedges near the margin of a stream, proceeded towards it, separating
from each other a few yards in order to cover the ground.

There was a sudden and violent shaking in the sedges on their approach,
as if some large animal had been aroused from sleep, but the tall reeds
prevented its being seen.

"Look out, Jerry, and keep more on the other side--there--Hallo!"

As he spoke, a creature called by the Dutch colonists a reit-vark, or
reed-swine, whose quick starts and sharp stoppages betrayed its
indecision, at length made up its mind and rushed out of the reeds in
wild alarm close to Rivers, who, although ready, was incapable of
restraining himself, and fired in haste. The ball nevertheless slightly
grazed the animal's side.

With a shriek of intense agony, such as only a brute of the porcine
tribe can utter, the reit-vark swerved aside and ran straight, though
unintentionally, at Jerry Goldboy.

Self-control not being Jerry's forte, he uttered a great cry, presented
the blunderbuss with both hands, shut his eyes, and fired. The butt of
his piece came back on his chest and floored him, and the half-pound of
gravel charge went into the forehead of the reit-vark, which dropped
with a final groan, whose clear import was--"no earthly use in
struggling after _that_!" Recovering hi