of arrows, suddenly dropped on all-fours and began to
glide through the long grass.

Now there is a particular little bird in those regions which calls for
special notice here. It is a very singular bird, inasmuch as it has
constituted itself the guardian of the buffalo. It frequently sits upon
that animal's back, and, whenever it sees the approach of man, or any
other danger, it flaps its wings and screams to such an extent, that the
buffalo rushes off without waiting to inquire or see what is the matter;
and the small guardian seems to think itself sufficiently rewarded with
the pickings it finds on the back of its fat friend. So vigilant is
this little creature, that it actually renders the approach of the
hunter a matter of great difficulty in circumstances when, but for it,
he might approach with ease. [See Livingstone's _Zambesi and its
Tributaries_, page 200.]

Our wary native was, however, aware of this little fellow's
propensities, and took precautions to outwit the bird rather than the
beast. It may perhaps cause some surprise to be told that a small bow
and arrows were a sufficiently powerful species of artillery to bring to
bear against such noble game, but the surprise will vanish when we state
that the arrows were poisoned.

Having crawled to within range, the fathom of black pump-water suddenly
arose and let fly an arrow. The missile went deep into the side of a
majestic bull. The little bird fluttered and screamed too late. The
bull at once dashed away at full speed, starting off the whole herd in
alarm. The black fathom followed at the top of his speed, and was
joined by a number of other black fathoms, who were quite aware of what
had been done. The buffaloes were soon out of sight, but the fathoms
followed the trail with the unerring pertinacity of fate. After a long
run they came up with the stricken bull, which had fallen behind its
fellows, and waited patiently until the poison took full effect. In a
short time the animal fell, and the successful hunters fell to work upon
his carcase with their knives.

Leaving them thus employed, we will return to Kambira and his friends.

They had not gone far when a fine water-buck was observed feeding beside
a creek.

Kambira laid his hand on Harold's shoulder and pointed to it with a
smile, which might have been interpreted, "Now, then, there's a chance
for you!"

Harold fired, and the water-buck dropped.

"Good," said Kambira.

"Hallo!