were as keen as mustard for the story, and Kenstone went on.

"Well, let me fill my pipe, and give me another _soupje_ of whisky,
and," (nodding a health to his hearers over his glass) "here goes:--

"It was in '74 that Angus and I were making our third trip to the Lake
N'gami country. This time we had got leave from Khama to trade and hunt
in Mababi and the Chobe River country; and we meant to push even beyond,
to the region between the Sunta and the Okavango, if the fever would let
us. We made a good trek of it across the `thirst'--there had been very
late rains that year--and even after crossing the Lake River we made
good travelling well on towards the Mababi flat. We heard from the
Makobas and Masarwas along the river that there was still some water
standing in the bush on our right hand, that there were elephant in
there, and that other game was abundant. It is not often that this
veldt is accessible--from scarcity of water--and it seemed good enough
to quit the wagon road for a time, and try the bush for ivory. Before
reaching Scio Pans, therefore, we turned right-handed, and struck into
the bush with one wagon--the other, in charge of our head driver, being
sent on to the water, there to await our coming.

"We had some Masarwa bushmen with us, and they were as keen as hawks at
the prospect of showing us heavy game, and getting a liberal supply of
flesh. Northward we trekked steadily through wild desolate country for
the best part of one day, and outspanned by a desert pool for the night.
Here we were greatly disappointed to find no spoor of elephant,
although giraffe, ostrich, gemsbok, and hartebeest were fairly
plentiful. Next day at dawn we again pushed doggedly on, Angus and I
taking different directions, and riding some miles ahead of the wagon on
the look-out for elephant-spoor. I rode behind a Masarwa at a steady
pace all morning without finding the least sign of the game we wanted,
and, after an off-saddle at midday, once more pushed on in a
north-westerly direction.

"Rather suddenly we came upon a _klompje_ of giraffe, and as the
elephants seemed very much in the air and we wanted meat, I rammed the
spurs in and galloped headlong for the _kameels_ [Camels. The Boer term
for giraffe]. It was desperately hot, and we were shut up in thick
thorny bush in which not a breath of wind stirred, and I consequently
had not got my coat on. The beast I rode for, a fat, fresh young cow,
led me a pretty