roaring fire under way.

"Why, this is your first camp, Dick," said Greenoak, reaching out a
handful of tobacco for him to fill from, and then filling up himself.

"Rather," was the answer. "Oh, it's glorious--glorious," jumping up
again to go and look at the mighty beast, lying there but a few yards
off in the moonlight. Harley Greenoak laughed.

"He's all right. He won't run away," he said. "Nothing will touch him
either while we are here. Better go to sleep."

"Not much sleep for me to-night. No fear," said Dick.

And he was right. The excitement, the keen fresh air, the sights and
sounds of the surrounding forest were too much for this ardent young
novice, and he hardly closed his eyes. Yet in the morning he was none
the worse.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The astonishment in the Simcox household when they heard what had
happened was something to witness. The feminine element started in to
scold Harley Greenoak for allowing his charge to run such a tremendous
risk.

"Oh, he'd have to find his feet some time," was the rejoinder. "He
seems to have done it tolerably well too, for a young beginner."

A week or two went by, which Dick Selmes divided about equally between
hunting bush-buck and rendering Greenoak's life a burden to him as to
whether the head was being sufficiently cured, or whether it was quite
safely out of the way of dogs or other destroyers and so forth. One
morning that long-suffering individual remarked:

"We'll move on to-morrow, Dick."

"Well yes, I suppose it's about time. But--where?"

"Why, there's an old friend of mine named Hesketh who's just written me
to bring you along. His farm's up in the Rooi Ruggensbergen. Man, but
it's wild there I can tell you."

"All the better. What does the said Hesketh consist of?"

"Himself. He's a primitive old customer, and you'll have to rough it
there. I warn you of that."

"The shoot good?"

"It just is."

"Hurrah then!" cried Dick. "I'm on."

"Well, we'll go back to the Bay, and pick up a Cape cart--it'll always
sell again when we've done with it--and some more ammunition. Another
horse, too, won't hurt. These two we got from Simcox are all right, but
you've already shown a tendency to ride yours to death. A fellow who's
as keen as you are can't go on for ever pushing the same horse over all
sorts of ground from sunrise to sunset."

"Good--and good again!" assented Dic