steep, like the other, only the bush was less
thick.

"I don't care for this end at all," said Edala, when they had
dismounted, and having hidden the horses, returned to take up their
position. "Look. I'm sure we'll be better up there," pointing to a
spot about a hundred yards higher up. "Let's stand there."

"Won't it be a bit risky? You see, your father will expect us to be
here, and supposing he were to fire at anything just at that point on
the strength of it?"

"That's not likely. Everything will have run out too far ahead of him
by the time he gets there. Come."

"Oh, all right."

They dived into the bush, penetrating it higher up into the kloof. By
the time they halted it was not the hundred yards it looked, but over
two.

"This will do," she said. "Now you're not to miss."

Their position was a little plateau, whence they could see without being
seen. First-rate shots could be obtained of everything that ran out--
and everything that did run out would pass within easy range, by reason
of the narrowness of the way. Above, too, they would have ample warning
of anything coming, for the bush though just thick enough, was not too
dense.

"_Diane chasseresse_, you are splendid to-day," whispered Elvesdon as
they took up their position. She looked straight into his face, and on
hers came a half resentful expression.

"Oh now, now. That'll do," she answered, half pettishly. "I suppose
you think because I'm a girl I've no business in this sort of thing at
all. I know I'm about the only one who goes in for it--except in
England. There you get the Duchess of this and the Countess of that,
and Lady Tom Noddy and all the rest of them placarded in the illustrated
weeklies in shooting costume, with their guns, and so on; but here--oh
no, the ordinary she-mortal mustn't touch sport, just because she is a
she. What?"

"Nothing. Don't be so petulant."

"Ah--ah! That's what you were thinking. I know it."

"Don't crow now. You're not a thought-reader. And,"--he added to
himself, "I sometimes wish you were."

She made an impatient movement--something, we believe, of the nature of
that which our grandmothers called a `flounce.'

"Why shouldn't I shoot bushbucks?" she said, defiantly. "Tell me."

"When you have told me when I said you shouldn't. Now why on earth have
you raised all this bother about nothing in the world? Tell me."

She looked at him for a moment as though not knowing whethe