xactly similar to that made by the male of the kori
when challenging an adversary to combat.

Like the grouse, the bustard is polygamous, and of course terribly
jealous and pugnacious, at certain seasons of the year. Swartboy knew
that it was just then the "fighting season" among the pauws, and hoped
by imitating their challenge to draw the bird--a cock he saw it
was--within reach of his arrow.

As soon as the kori heard the call, he raised himself to his full
height, spread his immense tail, dropped his wings until the primary
feathers trailed along the grass, and replied to the challenge.

But what now astonished Swartboy was, that instead of one answer to his
call, he fancied he heard two, simultaneously uttered!

It proved to be no fancy, for before he could repeat the decoy the bird
again gave out its note of defiance, and was answered by a similar call
from another quarter!

Swartboy looked in the direction whence came the latter; and there sure
enough, was a second kori, that seemed to have dropped from the region
of the clouds, or, more likely, had run out from the shelter of the
bushes. At all events, it was a good way towards the centre of the
plain, before the hunter had observed it.

The two were now in full view of each other; and by their movements any
one might see that a combat was certain to come off.

Sure of this, Swartboy did not call again; but remained silent behind
his bush.

After a good while spent in strutting, and wheeling round and round, and
putting themselves in the most threatening attitudes, and uttering the
most insulting expressions, the two koris became sufficiently provoked
to begin the battle. They "clinched" in gallant style, using all three
weapons,--wings, beak, and feet. Now they struck each other with their
wings, now pecked with their bills; and at intervals, when a good
opportunity offered, gave each other a smart kick--which, with their
long muscular legs, they were enabled to deliver with considerable
force.

Swartboy knew that when they were well into the fight, he might stalk in
upon them unobserved; so he waited patiently, till the proper moment
should arrive.

In a few seconds it became evident, he would not have to move from his
ambush; for the birds were fighting towards him. He adjusted his arrow
to the string, and waited.

In five minutes the birds were fighting within thirty yards of the spot
where the Bushman lay. The twang of a bowstring might have b