s--a
family most likely--and the tracks upon it were as recent as those they
had been following.

They hesitated for a moment which to take; but at length concluded upon
keeping straight on; and so they moved forward as before.

To their great disappointment the trail at last led out into more open
ground, where the elephants had scattered about; and after following the
tracks of one, and then another without success, they got bewildered,
and lost the spoor altogether.

While casting about to find it in a place where the bush was thin and
straggling, Swartboy suddenly ran off to one side, calling to the others
to follow him. Von Bloom and Hendrik went after to see what the Bushman
was about. They thought he had seen an elephant, and both, considerably
excited, had already pulled the covers off their guns.

There was no elephant, however. When they came up with Swartboy, he was
standing under a tree, and pointing to the ground at its bottom.

The hunters looked down. They saw that the ground upon one side of the
tree was trampled, as though horses or some other animals had been tied
there for a long time, and had worn off the turf, and worked it into
dust with their hoofs. The bark of the tree--a full-topped shady
acacia--for some distance up was worn smooth upon one side, just as
though cattle had used it for a rubbing-post.

"What has done it?" asked the field-cornet and Hendrik in a breath.

"Da olifant's slapen-boom" (the elephant's sleeping-tree), replied
Swartboy.

No further explanation was necessary. The hunters remembered what they
had been told about a curious habit which the elephant has--of leaning
against a tree while asleep. This, then, was one of the sleeping-trees
of these animals.

But of what use to them, farther than to gratify a little curiosity? The
elephant was not there.

"Da ole karl come again," said Swartboy.

"Ha! you think so, Swart?" inquired Von Bloom.

"Ya, baas, lookee da! spoor fresh--da groot olifant hab slap here
yesterday."

"What then? you think we should lie in wait, and shoot him when he
returns."

"No, baas, better dan shoot, we make him bed--den wait see um lie down."

Swartboy grinned a laugh as he gave this piece of advice.

"Make his bed! what do you mean?" inquired his master.

"I tell you, baas, we get da oliphant sure, if you leave da job to ole
Swart. I gib you de plan for take him, no waste powder, no waste
bullet."

The Bushman proceeded to communi