were cautioned not to stray far from the nwana, and always to
climb to the tree, should they perceive any animal that might be
dangerous. Before the destruction of the hyenas and lions, they had been
used to remain altogether in the tree, while the hunters were absent.
But this had been quite an imprisonment to them; and now that the danger
was not considered much, they were allowed to come down and play upon
the grassy plain, or wander along the shore of the little lake.

On one occasion when the hunters were abroad, Trueey had strayed down to
the edge of the water. She was alone, if we except the company of the
gazelle, which followed at her heels wherever she went. This pretty
creature had grown to full size, and had turned out a great beauty, with
large round eyes that had a lovely melting expression, like the eyes of
Trueey herself.

Well, as I have said, Trueey was alone. Jan was busy near the bottom of
the tree, working a new rod into his bird-cage, and Totty was out upon
the plain herding "old Graaf"--so Trueey and the pet springbok went
strolling along by themselves.

Now Trueey had not gone down to the water without an object. She had one.
She had gone to give her pet a drink, and collect some blue lilies for a
bouquet. All this she had done, and still continued to walk along the
shore.

On one side of the lake, and that the farthest from the nwana-tree, a
low spit of land projected into the water. It had once been but a
sand-bar, but grass had grown upon it, until a green turf was formed.
There was not over a square perch of it altogether, but it was not
square in shape. On the contrary, it was of oval form, and much narrower
nearest the land, where it formed a neck, or isthmus, not more than
three feet in width. It was, in short, a miniature peninsula, which by a
very little work with the spade could have been converted into a
miniature island--had that been desired.

Now there is nothing very remarkable about a little peninsula projecting
into a lake. In nearly every lake such a thing may be seen. But about
this one there was something remarkable.

Upon its extreme end grew a tree of singular form and foliage. It was
not a large tree, and its branches drooped downwards until their tips
almost touched the water. The pendulous boughs, and long lanceolate
silvery leaves, rendered it easy to tell what sort of tree it was. It
was the weeping or Babylonian willow--so called, because it was upon
trees of th