less, and the fly began to exhibit signs of moving, he could no longer restrain himself, but with a dart so quick that my eyes could not follow, he had fixed the unconscious fly with his long flexible tongue, and not liking to trust himself longer than necessary in so dangerous a vicinity, had taken up his former position in the crevice. There he proceeded to devour his prey with the most evident appreciation, but never taking his eyes off me.

Two hours had elapsed, and I was thinking of making a move, despairing of the bôk coming back, when, in the identical place he had previously disappeared from my view, I saw his head reappearing. I was myself well hidden by the rock, and it also served as a rest for my rifle. I had taken the precaution of adjusting the sight to 200 yards, which I judged to be the distance across the basin. The klip-springer evidently had suspicions that all was not right, and for some moments only bobbed his head up and down, taking hurried looks over; but seeing nothing unusual, he at last stepped boldly up on to the top of the ledge and stood out clearly against the sky. He could not have given me a better opportunity, and, taking a very steady careful aim, I fired. Not waiting for the smoke to clear away, I started off at a run across the basin, but when I reached the spot where the bôk had stood, there was nothing to be seen of it.

The decline, however, was so steep that it might very easily have rolled down. I kicked over a large stone to see the direction it would take, and then followed it down. A few yards down I discovered a patch of blood, so it was with a good heart I made

the best of my way down, until I came upon the body of the bôk wedged in a deep crevice between two huge rocks, and quite dead. I did not lose any time in attempting to extricate it by myself, as there was every chance if I did get down I should be unable to get out again unassisted, but set off at once to the waggon. Those who had been out after the lost horse, came in at the same time as myself. They had not been successful in bringing back the horse, but had spoored it for many miles on the trek we had ourselves come along. So there was every probability of its having gone straight back to its stable in Leydenburg; and although annoyed at the loss of its services, we did not feel any further anxiety about its safety. Our confidence in the horse's sagacity was fully justified, for on our return, we ascertained that it had arrived at Spitzkop within twelve hours of the time we missed it, and had there been taken care of until an opportunity occurred of sending it safely back to Leydenburg. In all the large tract of land the searchers for the horse had traversed, they had not seen a single head of large game, nor even the spoor of any which had lately

been about.

We lost no time in fetching back my bôk, and then made another trek before darkness set in.

The question of our chef, "What I cook to-day, boss?" had during the last few days become rather painful, when the answer had to be, "Boil plenty of coffee," but now all that was changed, and we were able to indulge to our hearts' content in juicy tender meat, which tasted to us far better than the primest venison ever set on table.

The Descent of the Berg.

235

CHAPTER XXV.

Loses Kop-The Honey-bird-Hunting a Horse-A ShootingHorse and its Treatment-Flying Serpents-Sand RiverPartridges-Pretorius Kop-Our permanent Camp.

OUR first trek in the morning brought us close up to Loses Kop, and after outspanning for a while we made our final descent of the Berg into the Low Country, or Bush Veldt, which is not much above the level of the sea, and stretches away, although here and there crossed by hills, to Delagoa Bay. The change of temperature was most remarkable. On the high veldt above, and only two hours' journey away, we had experienced sharp frosts every night; and, except in the middle of the day, when the sun was shining, we had need of the thickest clothing. Every morning the water in the bottles was solid ice, and the ground white with rime. Now, the heat at noon was so severe that treking was out of the question, and at night the thermometer did not register below 78°. The most welcome change of all was a good supply of fine young grass for the oxen and horses, instead of the miserable dry husks they had been slowly starving on.

A small grey bird with a reddish beak, the size of a sparrow, had flown alongside and round the waggon for the last mile of our trek, making a shrill hissing

cry, and sometimes almost flying in the faces of the drivers; and I noticed that the boys were regarding it with peculiar attention and talking amongst themselves in reference to it.

On asking what caused the unusual interest of the boys in, to all appearance, a very common-place little bird, it was explained that this little insignificant visitor was the far-famed Honey-bird. Often and often had we heard tales of its marvellous instinct in pointing out the nests of wild honey, but we had always received them with a considerable portion of disbelief as travellers' tales.

As soon as the oxen were outspanned and the boys at liberty, three of them, armed with buckets, spades, and hatchets, set off towards the bird, which had flown to a neighbouring tree as soon as it perceived that our attention was successfully attracted. A. and myself, to whom it wås as strange an adventure as it was novel, accompanied the boys. As soon as we reached the tree the little fellow had perched on, it flitted on to the next, and then on again when we came up. Once it took such a long flight that we were unable to follow it.

The bird, however, after waiting for us a short time in vain, came flying back, uttering its shrill cry to let us know its whereabouts.

As if it had been warned by this not to proceed too far ahead of us, our guide now took very short flights, and, if there was no tree to rest on, took short circles in the air until we came up to him.

For nearly a mile this was kept up, and as the way grew more difficult and the bushes more dense, our own

faith in the bird was rapidly giving place to irritation at what began to look very like a trick of the others at the expense of our inexperience.

However, the boys seemed so genuinely astonished at our doubts, that we still followed on.

At last the bird stopped altogether in a small clump of some dozen minosa-trees, all growing within a few feet of one another.

When we came up to it, instead of, as heretofore, flying off in a straight line, it just flitted on to an opposite tree, remained there a few moments, and then back to its previous position. This was its signal that the nest was close at hand. The boys examined the trunks of the trees round most carefully, but could find no opening where the nest could by any possibility be situated. The bird grew more and more angry and indignant at what it evidently considered our extreme stupidity, and flapped its little wings, and redoubled the shrill cries which it had ceased to utter while leading us to the spot. At last, losing all patience, it actually settled on a piece of the stem of one of the trees it had been persistently flitting backwards and forwards in front of. The boys now, paying more attention to this particular tree, perceived just above where the bird had perched a small hole, and round it a kind of cement. While we were watching a bee flew out, which made it certain that the nest was within the trunk. The driver of Woodward's waggon, who was an old hand at the work, at once climbed up the tree with a hatchet, and under his direction the others collected armfuls of dried grass. Taking a large handful of