rse or ox den dey die," he answered.

As, however, neither my uncle nor I felt any ill effects from the bites
of the flies, we thought that Jan must be mistaken, and at all events it
was now too late to shift our encampment. We therefore, having made up
a blazing fire to scare off any wild beasts, lay down to sleep, without
thinking more of the flies, which did not cause us any annoyance.

The next morning we saw some of the creatures on the legs of our horses
and the ox; but we soon brushed them away, and, loading up, we continued
our journey. They went on as usual. Jan, however, looked much
disconcerted, and I saw him continually brushing off the flies.

"No good, no good!" he said, "hope soon get through, for de horses not
go far."

I asked my uncle what Jan meant. He replied that he had often heard of
the tsetse fly, but never having passed through a country infested by
it, he was disinclined to believe the stories told of the deadly effects
of its bite on cattle and horses.

CHAPTER TWO.

We soon passed through the tsetse district, which was not more than a
couple of miles wide, and, as our animals showed no appearance of
suffering, we hoped that they had escaped injury.

We had determined to encamp early in the day near a pool fed by a
rivulet which fell into the main stream, in order that we might shoot
some game for our supper. Leaving Jan in charge of the camp, my uncle
and I set off, believing that we could easily find our way back to the
fire. We had gone some distance when we caught sight of a herd of
antelopes. In order that we might have a better chance of killing one
of them, my uncle told me to make a wide circuit, keeping to leeward of
the deer towards a clump of trees, whence I might be able to get a
favourable shot, while he lay down concealed by the brushwood near where
we then were.

Taking advantage of all the bushes and trunks of trees on the way, I
approached the antelopes without disturbing them. Looking out from the
cover I had gained, I watched the beautiful creatures, hoping that one
of them would come within range of my rifle. It was tantalising to see
them feeding so quietly just out of my reach. Still, though I might not
get a shot, I hoped that they might go off towards where my uncle was
lying hid. Presently, however, they bounded towards me; and, thinking
it possible that they might again turn, I fired at one of the leading
animals, which, notwithstanding its wou