at blue-faced old-man baboon with a remarkably
saturnine expression. On reaching the top of the rock which the leopard
had just vacated, the old man called a halt. The others came tumbling
awkwardly towards him on all-fours, with the exception of several of the
youngsters, who loitered behind to play. One of these, a very small bad
little boy-baboon, deliberately turned aside to explore on his own
account. He came down near to the foot of the rock where the leopard
had concealed himself. Catching sight of his glaring enemy, the bad boy
uttered a terrified squawk. Instantly all the males, headed by the old
man, rushed to the rescue. Powerful though he was, the leopard was
cowardly at heart. A large troop of baboons had some time ago made
mince-meat of his own grandmother. Remembering this, he sloped under a
bank, glided round a corner of the cliff, bounded over a bush, and
sought refuge in a thicket.

It was at this moment, while in the act of bounding, that he caught
sight of Junkie, but being confused at the moment, and ashamed of having
been twice foiled, he slunk away with his tail between his legs and
concealed himself among the branches of an old gnarled and favourite
tree.

The bad boy-baboon was the only one who had seen the leopard; the old
males therefore had to content themselves with a few fierce looks round
in all directions, and several defiant roars. Born and bred in the
midst of alarms, however, they were soon composed enough to resume their
descent on the white man's stores--to the great relief of the petrified
Junkie, of whom in their alarm they took no notice, regarding him,
possibly, as a badly executed statue of a baboon.

Junkie quickly recovered himself, and, seeing the baboons descend the
kloof, thought it safer, as well as more in accord with his original
plans, to ascend.

Gladly, hopefully, did the leopard observe his decision and watch his
progress. To him the tide of fortune seemed to have taken a favourable
turn, for Junkie, in the innocence of his heart, made straight for the
gnarled tree.

But one of the many slips so often quoted with reference to cups and
lips was at this time impending over the unfortunate leopard.

There was yet one other early riser that morning--namely Booby the
Bushman. In pursuance of his calling, that ill-used and misguided son
of the soil arose about daybreak with much of his native soil sticking
to his person, and, with a few other desperadoes