hing but keep his seat.

What thought he? At first, not much. At first he regarded the adventure
lightly. When he was about completing his third mile, he began to deem
it more serious; and as he entered upon the fifth, he became convinced
that he was neither more nor less than in a very awkward scrape.

But the fifth mile was left behind, and then a sixth, and a seventh; and
still the quaggas galloped wildly on--the drove actuated by the fear of
losing their liberty, and their old comrade by the desire of regaining
his.

Hendrik now felt real uneasiness. Where were they going? Where was the
brute carrying him? Perhaps off to the desert, where he might be lost
and perish of hunger or thirst! Already he was many miles from the
cliffs, and he could no longer tell their direction. Even had he halted
then and there, he could not tell which way to turn himself. He would be
lost!

He grew more than anxious. He became frightened in earnest.

What was he to do? Leap down, and risk his neck in the fall? He would
lose his quagga and his saddle as well--he regarded the eland as already
lost--he would have to walk back to camp, and get laughed at on his
return.

No matter for all that; his life was in danger if he kept on. The
quaggas might gallop twenty,--aye, fifty miles before halting. They
showed no symptoms of being blown--no signs of giving out. He must fling
himself to the ground, and let quagga and saddle go.

He had formed this resolution, and was actually about to put it in
practice. He was just considering how he might best escape an ugly
fall--looking for a soft spot--when, all at once, a grand idea rushed
into his mind.

[Illustration: HENDRICK BLINDING THE QUAGGA.]

He remembered that in taming this same quagga and breaking him to the
saddle, he had been vastly aided by a very simple contrivance--that was
a "blind." The blind was nothing more than a piece of soft leather tied
over the animal's eyes; but so complete had been its effect, that it had
transformed the quagga at once from a kicking screaming creature into a
docile animal.

Hendrik now thought of the blind.

True, he had none. Was there nothing about him that would serve as one?
His handkerchief? No, it would be too thin. Hurrah! His jacket would do!

His rifle was in the way. It must be got rid of. It must be dropped to
the ground. He could return for it.

It was let down as gently as possible, and soon left far behind.

In a twinkling Hend