, in the result of which Arlo was rescued from taking what really
was rather a high leap, and frisked and gambolled around us in delight.

This waterhole or pool, was rather a curious one. It filled a cup-like
basin about twenty-five yards across, surrounded by precipitous rocks
save at the lower end, and here, overflowing, it trickled down to join
the Tugela, about half a mile distant. It was fed from a spring from
above, which flowed down a gully thickly festooned with maidenhair fern.
Where we now stood, viz. at the highest point, there was a sheer drop
of about twenty feet to the surface of the water--a high leap for a dog,
though this one had done it two or three times and had come to no harm.
The hole was of considerable depth, and right in the centre rose a
flat-headed rock. It was a curious waterhole, as I said, and quite
unique, and I more than suspected, though I could never get anything
definite out of them, that the natives honoured it with some sort of
superstitious regard. Incidentally it held plenty of coarse fish, of no
great size, likewise stupendous eels--item of course mud-turtles galore.

"Hie in, old dog! Hie in!" cried Falkner.

But Arlo had no intention whatever of "hie-ing in," being in that sense
very much of an "old dog." He barked in response and frisked and wagged
his tail, the while keeping well beyond reach of Falkners treacherous
grasp.

"Rum place this, Glanton," said the latter. "I wonder there ain't any
crocs in it."

"How do you know there are not?" I said.

"Oh hang it, what d'you mean? Why we've swum here often enough, haven't
we?"

"Not very. Still--it's jolly deep you know. There may be underground
tunnels, connecting it with anywhere?"

"Oh hang it. I never thought of that. What a chap you are for putting
one off a thing, Glanton."

"I never said there were, mind. I only suggested the possibility."

He raised himself on one elbow, and his then occupation--shying stones
at every mud-turtle that showed an unwary head--was suspended.

"By Jove! Are there any holes like this round Hensley's place?" he said
earnestly.

"Not any," I answered. "This one is unique; hence its curiosity."

"Because, if there were, that might account for where the old chap's got
to. Underground tunnels! I never thought of that, by Jove. What d'you
think of that, Edith? Supposing you were having a quiet swim here, and
some jolly croc grabbed you by the leg and lugged you int