ays the hitherto dry and parched land had been
covered with rapidly growing vegetation, vivid green grasses shooting
up to an average height of eighteen inches and transforming the open
ground into a state strongly resembling the prairies of the New World.

Crowds of _aasvogels_, gathered around the carcass of a mule, rose on
the subaltern's approach, uttering discordant cries as they flew away
from their interrupted meal. It was unfortunate but unavoidable, and
had Wilmshurst been within a couple of miles of a hostile post the
aerial commotion would have "given him away."

Checking his map with various prominent landmarks the subaltern arrived
at the limit of his ride, a clump of sub-tropical trees that crowned a
horseshoe-shaped hill.

"That's all right so far," thought Dudley, comparing the contour of the
hill with the plan. "Now comes the unknown."

His military map showed an absolute desert as far as detail was
concerned. Topographical knowledge was practically at zero judging by
the almost blank portion of paper representing the ground between the
subaltern and the twin spurs of the Karewenda Hills against which
Colonel Quarrier proposed making their actual frontal attack. It was
Wilmshurst's task to cross this unknown ground, finding out the best
route for troops to advance in column of route without being detected,
and a suitable place for extending in open order prior to the final
phases of the assault.

Tethering his pony by means of a long hide-rope--for out of
consideration for the animal he forbore to hobble it, since there was a
possibility that he might not be able to return to it, Wilmshurst
fastened the rolled ground-sheet over his shoulder after the manner of
a bandolier, and holding his rifle ready for instant action began his
seven-mile trek. In order to baffle the enemy scouts should they be
out, Dudley wore a pair of flat-soled boots to the feet of which were
fixed a dummy pair of soles and heels in the reverse way. Any one
picking up the spoor would be under the erroneous belief that the
wearer was walking in the opposite direction to the actual one.

"Judging by my footsteps I must be a pigeon-toed blighter,"
soliloquised Wilmshurst, as he noted the turned-in prints in the soft
ground. "I must look out to that, or I'll give the show away."

On and on he went, making his way from one point of cover to another,
yet without seeing or hearing the faintest sign of the German patrols.
It