ly that I shivered, blazing hot as was the
afternoon. The bush seemed very still and lonely, and I am bound to say
it suddenly struck me it was time to move for the wagon. I got on to my
good nag, walked him away, and presently set him into a brisk canter,
which I only once slackened till I made the camp, just at sundown, a
couple of hours later.

"I told Angus what I had seen. He laughed, and told me I had evidently
missed the spoor, although he admitted that it was strange that Dirk had
made no sign when I hailed him; and next morning we moved on rapidly,
picked up the meat of the dead giraffe, and then a little later struck
the wagon-spoor I had found yesterday. This we followed briskly until
four o'clock p.m., when we came upon an old outspan, and discovery
Number 4.

"Here was a good-sized water-pit in limestone formation. There were the
remains of the camp-fire; and it was evident, from several indications,
that the wagon, whosever it was, had stood at least two days at this
spot. The camel-thorn trees [Giraffe-acacias] grew pretty thickly all
around, and there was a good deal of bush, and altogether it was a
sequestered, silent spot. Lying by the largest of the dead fires was an
object that instantly quickened our interest in the mystery we were
unravelling--the skeleton of a man, clean-picked by the foul vultures,
but apparently untouched by jackals or hyaenas. There were still the
tattered remains of clothing upon it, and one velschoen--a Boer
velschoen--upon the right foot. I turned over the poor bleached
framework to try and discover some inkling of its end. As I did so, out
pattered from the skull on to the sand a solid Martini-Henry bullet,
slightly flattened on one side of its apex, manifestly from impact with
some bone it had encountered--probably a cheek-bone. A closer scrutiny
revealed a big hole in rear of the skull just behind the right ear.

"`By George!' exclaimed Angus, who was bending over me, `there's been
foul play here. That shot was fired at pretty close quarters.'

"I nodded, and at that instant my Masarwa, who had been searching about
near us, picked up and brought me a bunch of long red hair.

"`So help me God!' I could not help exclaiming, `that's from Dirk
Starreberg's beard, for any money! He has been murdered here--that's
certain. If it was an accident, they would have buried him. The
question is, who is the murderer?'

"We hunted about, but found no more traces, e