ut it's no use
worrying about it. The baby that dies every day somewhere in the world,
I suppose knows more than we shall ever do till the end comes. After
all, one can only try and play the game, and do one's poor little best
according to one's lights and ethics."

"I suppose so," answered Bill. "But it's a secret worth knowing, old
chap, isn't it? It _must_ be, if one only knew."

The two friends sat smoking and talking for half an hour longer upon
different topics, mainly to do with hunting, and then climbed into the
wagon, tucked themselves beneath their karosses, and slept the
refreshing sleep of the veldt.

A fortnight later they were camped on a tributary stream north of the
Okavango. They had left their wagon standing on the southern bank of
the big river, and the Bayeiye had ferried them across in their
dug-outs. Here buffalo were in plenty--the vast reed-beds were full of
them--and they had already secured plenty of meat and some good heads.

It was early dawn, and they were drinking a cup of coffee by the remains
of the overnight camp-fire. The sky was just paling in the east, and
already the world was astir in this remote wilderness. The hippos were
blowing in the river a little below them; long flights of storks were
winding through the clear air; multitudes of duck, geese, and other
wildfowl were raising their clamour upon the waters. Presently their
native hunter crept in from a tour of inspection. "Sieur," he said, a
grin of pleasure upon his keen face, "there's a big troop of buffalo
down there by the water now. They are not far from some bush, and you
can get a good shot before they make for the reeds again. And there are
some big bulls among them--old fellows with horns so thick!"--spreading
out his arms with perhaps a trifle of exaggeration.

"That's all right, Cobus," responded Bill Vincent. "We'll come along at
once. How far are they off?"

"Less than a quarter of a mile, Sieur. You can hear them a little way
on, trampling and splashing in the shallows. They're feeding all round
there."

"Capital!" exclaimed Ralph, picking up his double eight-bore and looking
through the barrels. "Here, you, Tatenyan, lay hold of that," handing
another native his second rifle. "Be careful, you beggar; it's loaded."

Tatenyan grinned an immense grin, and took the rifle.

Accompanied by their two gun-bearers, the white men set off in high
spirits. There was plenty of scattered cover betwe