s of the sun, glaring right down and then
reflecting up again from the white clay, brought the perspiration out of
me in streams. Every minute I was obliged to rub my eyes clear of it
with the handkerchief.

Now, before passing the kerchief over my face, I always shook it open;
and each time I did so, I noticed that the rage of the wildebeest seemed
to be redoubled! In fact, at such times he would leave off goring the
heap, and make a fresh attempt to rush up at me, roaring his loudest as
he charged against the steep wall!

I was puzzled at this, as well as astonished. What could there be in my
wiping my face to provoke the wildebeest anew? And yet such was clearly
the case. Every time I did so, he appeared to swell with a fresh burst
of passion!

The explanation came at length. I saw that it was not the wiping off the
perspiration that provoked him. It was the shaking out of my
handkerchief. This was, as you know, of a bright scarlet colour. I
thought of this, and then, for the first time, remembered having heard
that anything scarlet has a most powerful effect upon the wildebeest,
and excites him to a rage resembling madness.

I did not wish to keep up his fury. I crumpled up the handkerchief and
buried it in my pocket--preferring to endure the perspiration rather
than remain there any longer. By hiding the scarlet, I conceived a hope
he would the sooner cool down, and go away.

But I had raised a devil in him too fierce to be so easily laid. He
showed no signs of cooling down. On the contrary, he continued to
charge, butt, and bellow, as vengefully as ever--though the scarlet was
no longer before his eyes.

I began to feel really annoyed. I had no idea the gnoo was so implacable
in his rage. The bull evidently felt pain from his wound. I could
perceive that he moaned it. He knew well enough it was I who had given
him this pain.

He appeared determined not to let me escape retribution. He showed no
signs of an intention to leave the place; but laboured away with hoof
and horns, as if he would demolish the mound.

I was growing very tired of my situation. Though not afraid that the
bull could reach me, I was troubled by the thought of being so long
absent from our camp. I knew I should have been there. I thought of my
little sister and brother. Some misfortune might befall them. I was very
sad about that, though up to that time I had little or no fears for
myself. I was still in hopes the wildebeest would tir