ry, was fast disappearing into
space.

"That's splendid," cried the girl sliding from her horse to pick up the
bird; which had been killed clean, and lay with outspread wings. "Fifty
paces or very near it. You know, Evelyn, vaal koorhaan are not common,
and you can hardly ever get within shot range of them. You can `down'
them with a rifle of course, but not often, for they're precious _slim_.
Lovely feathers too. You shall have them for a hat, in memento of your
first hunt."

"Thanks. That will be jolly," stroking the beautiful red-brown and
pearl-grey plumage. "And they're so soft. What sort of bird is it,
Edala?"

"Kind of little bustard," answered Edala, who was tying it on the `D' of
her saddle. "Ripping good skoff they are, too. I say--there's a
bombardment going on down there. Wonder what they've got."

For below, in the near distance, two double reports had rung out, then a
single one. The yelling of the dogs, and the whooping of the beaters
had arrived at a climax of clamour, then suddenly ceased.

"Look out," exclaimed Edala excitedly and in a low tone, as she slid
from her horse. "There's something coming out here. No. It has broken
back, whatever it is--" noting the tremulous line among the branches
beneath and an occasional faint thud as of hoofs. "Well, let's go down
and see what they've got."

On reaching the spot, where all now had foregathered, it transpired that
Prior had turned over two bushbuck ewes, while Elvesdon pleaded guilty
to shamefully missing a ram with both barrels.

"Never mind, we've not done so badly," pronounced Thornhill. "Four
bucks to four guns out of one kloof isn't altogether rotten. Edala,
what have you got there? A vaal koorhaan, by the living Jingo. Sitting
or on the wing?"

"As if I should answer that!" was the reply, in scathing accents.

"She shot it from the saddle too," put in Evelyn.

"From the saddle did she? Well done, little girl. Well, that is
something like."

Prior gave a loud whistle.

"By Jingo, I should think it was! Why, it's a record, Miss Thornhill."

"Oh, I don't know. Old Witvoet is very steady," said the girl. "It's
like shooting from an armchair."

They talked and laughed, and compared notes, while Manamandhla and the
two other natives--for one more had overtaken them according to
instructions--were engaged in gralloching the quarry; to them a
congenial task, for many a tid-bit in the shape of liver and heart found