thing be? he now seemed to inquire of himself. It
was not a lion, nor a leopard, nor a hyena, nor yet a jackal. It was
neither fox, nor fennec, nor earth-wolf, nor wild hound, nor any of his
well-known enemies. It was not a Bushman neither, for they are not
double-headed as it appeared. What could it be? It had kept its
place--it had not pursued him. Perhaps it was not at all dangerous. No
doubt it was harmless enough.

So reasoned the ourebi. His curiosity overcame his fear. He would go a
little nearer. He would have a better view of the thing before he took
to flight. No matter what it was, it could do no hurt at that distance;
and as to overtaking him, pah! there wasn't a creature, biped or
quadruped in all Africa that he could not fling dust in the face of.

So he went a little nearer, and then a little nearer still, and
continued to advance by successive runs, now this way and now that way,
zigzagging over the plain, until he was within less than a hundred paces
of the odd object that at first sight had so terrified him.

[Illustration: HENDRIK DECOYING THE OUREBIS.]

His companion, the doe, kept close after him; and seemed quite as
curious as himself--her large shining eyes opened to their full extent,
as she stopped to gaze at intervals.

Sometimes the two met each other in their course; and halted a moment,
as though they held consultation in whispers; and asked each other if
they had yet made out the character of the stranger.

It was evident, however, that neither had done so--as they still
continued to approach it with looks and gestures of inquiry and wonder.

At length the odd object disappeared for a moment under the grass; and
then reappeared--but this time in an altered form. Something about it
glanced brightly under the sun, and this glancing quite fascinated the
buck, so that he could not stir from the spot, but stood eyeing it
steadily.

Fatal fascination! It was his last gaze. A bright flash shot
up--something struck him through the heart, and he saw the shining
object no more!

The doe bounded forward to where her mate had fallen, and stood bleating
over him. She knew not the cause of his sudden death, but she saw that
he was dead. The wound in his side--the stream of red blood--were under
her eyes. She had never witnessed death in that form before, but she
knew her lover was dead. His silence--his form stretched along the grass
motionless and limber--his glassy eyes--all told her he had