ng the banks, and the whole
village sat down to watch the stalk, all but a few who went to and
fro between Venning at the house and Compton in the boat, carrying
the stores. The two officers turned in, with mats drawn, to enjoy
their siesta, and the guards on duty sought the shade of the trees
by the bank to watch the hunt.

The hunt was not a matter to be decided out of hand, by a swift
paddle straight up to the sand-bank in the river, and a chance shot.

The canoe crept up slowly and passed out of sight. The old hunters
in the watching crowd took counsel together, and then the chief of
them announced what would happen. The "slayer of crocodiles" would,
he declared, get above the island and then slowly descend with the
current upon the river-horse.

"May he shoot straight and his powder be strong," shouted a river-
man; "for it is the father of bulls who sleeps there--he who has
eaten many canoes."

"It is the same," said the old hunter; and, taking a pinch of snuff,
he began to tell the deeds of the old bull hippo.

So the drowsy afternoon passed lazily away to the watchers, and
wearily to the white boys. Their thoughts were in the canoe, and,
moreover, they were irritated by the slowness of the men who carried
the parcels. No man would carry more than one package at a time, and
after each journey he sat down to rest and discuss the chances for
and against the feast.

When the shadows were creeping across the deserted square--deserted
save for the man bound to the post, Venning for the hundredth time
looked across with an aching desire to rush over and cut the bonds.
As his eyes ranged sadly over the bronzed figure, he detected a
movement in the shadow of a hut opposite. Looking more attentively,
he saw the round ears of a jackal, and then made out the sharp face
resting between the outstretched paws, and the yellow eyes fixed
intently on the chief.

Muata lifted his head slowly, as if it were top heavy for the
muscles of his neck, and his gaze went sideways to see if any
watched.

Venning nodded eagerly from the shelter of the room; made a movement
with his hands as if he were cutting; pointed up the river and
spread his arms like a swimmer.

Muata let fall his head again, with his chin on his naked breast;
and the carriers ranged up for the last load. A shout from the bank
made them hurry. Several people who had gone to see about their
fires rushed, yelling, across the square to the bank.

"It was as