ion as the jackal's
cry, but much farther away, came the tremendous barking roar of a lion,
making the ponies draw a deep breath and shiver.

"Well," said Dickenson, "that can't be our way. It must be open country
yonder. It's all chance now, but we needn't run into danger and scare
our mounts. We'll face right round and go as far as we can judge in the
opposite direction to where that cry came from."

"Yes, sir; and it will make the ponies step out."

The sergeant was quite right, for the timid animals responded to the
touch of the rein, immediately stepped out at the word "Forward!" and
then broke into a trot, which had to be checked.

The roar was not heard again, but the yelps of the jackals were; and the
party went on and on till suddenly the cautious little beasts began to
swerve here and there, picking their way amongst stones which lay pretty
thickly.

"This is quite fresh, sergeant," said Dickenson.

"Yes, sir. I was wondering whether we had hit upon the river-bank."

"Ah!" cried Dickenson eagerly, just as his pony stopped short, sighed,
and began to browse without reaching down, the others seeming to do the
same.

"But there's no river here, sir," continued the sergeant.

"How do you know?"

"Ponies say so, sir. If there'd been a river running by here, they'd be
making for it to get a drink."

"Yes, of course. Here, sergeant, I can touch high boughs."

"Same here, sir."

"But there's no wood in our way."

"What about the patch where our men surprised the Boers yesterday, sir?"

"To be sure. Why, sergeant, we must have wandered there."

"That's it, sir, for all I'm worth."

"Ha!" said Dickenson, with a sigh of relief. "Then now we have
something tangible, and can easily lay our course for Groenfontein."
The sergeant coughed a little, short, sharp, dry cough, and said
nothing. "Well, don't you think so?"

"Can't say I do, sir. I wish I did."

"Why, hang it, man! it's simple enough. Here's the coppice, and
Groenfontein must lie--"

Dickenson stopped short and gave his ear a rub, full of vexation.

"Yes, sir, that's it," said the sergeant dryly; "this is the patch of
wood, but which side of it we're looking at, or trying to look at, I
don't know for the life of me. It seems to me that we're just as likely
to strike off straight for the Boers' laager as for home. I don't know
how you see it, sir."

"See, man!" cried Dickenson angrily. "It's of no use; I only wish I
could s