t, because though
they can eat my bullocks we can't eat them."

"No, Buck, but we can pepper their hides and salt their skins."

"Pepper 'em, sir? We want to give them something stronger than that--
some of the hard bullets you have got in the waggon. I have been having
it over with black Mak, and he's quite at home here and is on the look
out for a place where we can build up what they calls a zareba of bushes
and rock with a good fire inside. We mustn't have another night like
that last."

Just then Peter Dance and Bob Bacon came into sight, laden with a pretty
good faggot of dry wood that they had hacked off, and which they secured
to the tail of the second waggon ready for starting the cooking fire
when they made camp.

The men were intent upon their work; and each had a light billhook stuck
behind him in his belt, and while Dance was readjusting his faggot his
chopping tool nearly slipped out of where it was slightly stuck, while
in trying to save it from falling, the keeper, who had quite forgotten
his bruises, glanced for a moment in their direction.

"I say, young gentlemen," said the big driver, speaking from behind his
hand, "warn't it rum? It was just as if Peter felt that we were talking
about him."

"What, about his letting the fire out?" said Mark. "Oh, we must forget
that. I don't believe he would ever do it again."

"I hope not, sir," said Buck, and he swung himself along to overtake the
waggon, giving his big whip a crack or two and his span of bullocks a
few verbal admonitions to trek.

"That will be a horrible bother," said Dean, as the boys, rifle over
shoulder, strode off a little to the right of the straight course so as
to take their chance of anything that might spring up from one of the
clumps of dwarf trees which were being avoided by the waggon drivers.
For these carefully kept away from anything that might impede their
progress, which was towards the first rocky eminence of any size they
had seen, save on more distant hunting excursions, since they had left
the forest behind.

"What, building up a kraal, or zareba, as he called it?" said Mark.

"Yes. You see, we shall be tired enough without having that to do. But
it must be done."

But just at sundown the spot at which Mak had been aiming was reached.
It was one of the regular kopjes of the African plains, but fairly
verdant, being well furnished with dwarf trees and loose, rugged patches
of rock that offered themselves