sound--so near
that it caused both men to raise themselves on their elbows, Renshaw
leisurely, Sellon quickly and with a start--echoed forth upon the night.
The horses pricked up their ears and snorted and tugged violently at
their (luckily for themselves) restraining _reims_, trembling in every
limb.

A dull red glow threw forward the razor-like edge of the cliff
overhanging the camp. Silhouetted against this, looming blackly as
though sculptured in bronze, stood the mighty form of a huge lion.

Again that terrible roar pealed forth, booming and rumbling away in
sullen echoes among the krantzes. Then the red moon arose over the head
of the majestic beast, the grim Monarch of the Night roaring defiance
against those who dared invade his desert domain. For a moment he stood
there fully outlined, then vanished as though melting into empty air.

"Lucky, I took the precaution of building a _schanz_--eh?" said Renshaw,
quietly heaping fresh logs on to the fire.

"By Jove! it is," acquiesced Sellon, a little overawed.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

FOLLOWING THE CLUE.

It takes a little time to get used to sleeping out in the open, and on
the hard ground. The latter the novice is apt to find hard indeed.
There is always that refractory lump or stone just under his hip-bone,
and by the time he has removed this, or shifted his position, he only
settles down to find two similar sources of affliction where there was
but one before. If timid, he will think of snakes; if nervous, he will
be momentarily imagining some cold creeping thing crawling over his ear
or sneaking inside the legs of his trousers. Add to this the novelty of
the situation and the hundred and one varying voices of the night, which
combine to keep him awake, and it follows that however alluring to the
embryo traveller may be the prospect of "camping out," the reality is
less pleasant--till he gets used to it.

Renshaw, remarking that their late formidable visitant needn't have
wished them good night quite so loudly, rolled himself in a blanket, and
in ten minutes was fast asleep. But Sellon, being new to this kind of
thing, speedily fell a victim to each and all of the little
inconveniences above detailed, and passed a most uncomfortable and
restless night. The howling of the hyaenas, mingling with the shriller
"yap" of the hunting jackal, sounded continuous--then just as he was
dropping off into a doze, the loud "baugh! baugh!" of a troop of baboo