well-known scenes, amidst which the greater part of his life has been
passed, or the wild, unusual events transpiring around him.

To men of adventure such as Hans and his companions, a night in the
desert was not unusual, and they experienced but few of the sensations
which a more civilised man undoubtedly would feel; yet to these hunters
there was something awe-inspiring in the calm stillness of the night,
broken only by the shrieks and cries of night wanderers among the wild
animals, or the snorts of terror from their horses as these sounds met
their ears.

It was past midnight when Hans commenced his watch, and was the only one
of the five who was awake. The sisters were sheltered from the dew by a
blanket supported by two or three sticks, and arranged so as to form a
kind of tent. The two Dutchmen were lying beneath some bushes with
merely the blanket over them that served during the day to protect their
horses' backs from a badly-stuffed saddle.

Although Hans believed that any attack from an enemy was unlikely, yet,
being a man who knew the value of guarding against every possible, not
every likely danger only, he placed himself within a few yards of
Katrine and her sister, and there listened attentively to every sound
that broke the silence of the night.

When darkness spreads her mantle over the earth it is by sound alone
that an enemy can be discovered; for sight is then useless, and a man
who has thoroughly trained his hearing can distinguish sounds which are
inaudible and unintelligible to the mere tyro. To the ears of Hans the
tread of an animal with a hoof would have been recognised from that of a
soft-footed animal, such as a lion or leopard, and the footsteps of a
man could have been distinguished from those of a quadruped. It is
almost impossible for the civilised man to realise the acuteness of the
senses of one accustomed to trust his life to his senses, the sight,
hearing, and even scent seem to become added to in power, and in fact to
have an additional sense given to each. We all know how we can readily
distinguish the footstep of some particular friend from that of a
stranger, though how we do so it would puzzle us to explain; but thus it
is that the trained hunter can instantly decide that a hyaena or
antelope is walking past him, that a man is near, or that some other
animal is moving in his vicinity.

It was with mingled feelings of surprise and half-doubt that Hans heard
what he wa