ikwe, a precocious little Bushman
imp, could toddle alone; her younger, Kwaneet's son, she still carried.
They set off together along the river, which was now swarming with bird
life. Roseate flamingoes and ibises, lovely egrets, storks and cranes
and herons, were to be seen decking the shallows. Charming jacanas with
chestnut plumage, white and golden gorgets, long legs, and the
slenderest spidery feet, ran in little troops upon the thinnest film of
floating vegetation. Great spur-heeled Senegal cuckoos flapped heavily
from one reed-bed to another. Duck, geese, widgeon, and teal thronged
the spreading waters, and clamoured incessantly. A hippopotamus or two
blew in the distance; sluggish crocodiles floated, log-like yet
watchful, in middle stream. For the Masarwas, who love the dry deserts,
and shun the haunts even of black mankind, all this wealth of river-life
seemed a very welcome and a very novel change. But then there was a
kraal of Makobas within five miles, which was a drawback.

It was not long before they came to the dead zebra, which lay in a
little opening from the river, surrounded by dense bush. Kwaneet went
first. He walked up to the carcase and stooped to examine it. As he
did so there was a fierce, guttural growl from the bush nearest to him,
a lightning-like flash of a yellow body, and in an instant he lay there
beside the zebra, a great yellow-maned lion standing over him. The
brute stood with bared teeth, snarling in fiercest wrath. Kwaneet had
driven him from his prey that morning, it is true, but he had bided his
time, and now his revenge had come. For once the Masarwa had made a
miscalculation. As a rule the lion, driven from its prey in daylight
will steal away without showing fight. This particular lion happened to
be very hungry and very daring; there were not many hunters in that
country, and so Kwaneet had suffered.

But in the instant that the lion made his rush and stood over the
Masarwa, many things thronged into Nakeesa's brain. Her man there, from
whom she had received so many kindnesses, and with whom she had lived so
happily--nay, for a Bushwoman, so merrily--lay there in dire peril.
Surely his life was better than hers. Surely she could strike a blow
for him? Her babes, herself, all other things, were forgotten; she must
save Kwaneet, the best, and kindliest, and bravest hunter of all that
wilderness. She had Kwaneet's assegai upon her shoulder. With this she
ran