as I observed
that its horns were without antlers, and as I had also read that there
are no deer in Africa, except one species far north of where we were, I
told Ben that I thought, the carcass must be that of an antelope; for
these animals take the place of deer on the African continent, and
sailors, who know no better, call them deer. Ben had never heard of an
antelope, though he had of a gazelle; and if I had called it by this
name he might have agreed with me.

An "ant'lope," however, he knew nothing about; and as his hunter-pride
would have been offended by contradiction, I allowed him to persist in
calling it a deer.

"Ay, ay! it be a deer, Will," he said, emphatically, as we walked away
from it--"nothin' else, my boy. What a pity we can't scare up a livin'
'un--that 'ud be a nice cargo for our return-trip, w'udn't, my lad?"

"Yes," I answered, mechanically, without hearing what Ben said; for I
was at that moment thinking of something else.

We had observed how the carcass of the antelope--for antelope it was--
had been mangled and half eaten by some preying creature. Ben said it
was wolves or jackals. Likely one or more of these had made a meal upon
it; but there was one thing I had particularly noticed, and that was the
eyes. I should rather say the places where the eyes had been; for the
eyes themselves were quite gone, and the sockets cleaned out to the very
bottom. Now, I reasoned that no quadruped could do this. The holes
were too small even for a jackal to get his slender snout into. The
work must have been done by the beak of a bird; and what sort of bird.
Why, a vulture, of course!

Now, what kind of bird was Ben carrying upon his back? Beyond all doubt
it was a vulture! The locality in which we had found it, with the
carcass near at hand; its stupid behaviour in allowing the hunter to
approach so near; its general appearance, with the naked head and neck;
all these points confirmed my suspicion. I had read that such is the
habit of vultures; that they are so tame in some parts of the world,
that one can get near enough to knock them over with a stick; and this
is especially the case immediately after they have gorged themselves
with carrion. Now, the appearance of the carcass indicated that this
very bird had just finished its breakfast, and that would account for
its tameness. Beyond a doubt our game was a vulture!

I had arrived at this conviction, but disliked to declare it to my