ome wriggling little poisonous
creature was popped in. In fact, Chicory was an indefatigable hunter of
great things and small, taking readily to natural history pursuits; but
he had his drawbacks, one of which was a belief that the little snakes
and tiny lizards dropped into the spirits of wine were to make some kind
of soup; and he had to be stopped just in time to prevent his well
amalgamating the contents of the great flask by giving it a good shake
up.

"Dere's one, Boss Dick. Dere's nother one, Boss Jack," he kept on
saying, his quick restless eyes discovering the various objects long
before his English companions.

They were up in one of the superheated rifts among the rocks, with the
sun pouring down so powerfully that the whole party were very languid
and disposed to seek the first shelter, when an incident that might have
had a fatal termination came upon them like a shot.

Jack was in advance, and about to climb up to a shelf of rock in pursuit
of some brilliant little lizards that were darting in and out of the
crevices when Chicory shouted out,--

"Boss Jack! mind snake!"

It was too late. There was a great dust-coloured puff-adder lying in
his way, with its thick clumsy body nestled in amongst the hot stones;
and even as the Zulu boy's warning was uttered, Jack's boot pressed
heavily upon the lower part of the dangerous reptile's body.

Sluggish and dull before, this assault brought the reptile into a state
of activity that was almost wonderful, and before Jack could realise his
peril the short thick viper had struck twice at his leg. Before,
however, it could strike again, its head lay upon the stones, cut off by
a blow from Chicory's long-bladed assegai, and the body of the dangerous
beast was writhing amongst and rattling the stones.

"Chicory 'fraid he broke a bottle," said the boy, who had dropped it in
his excitement.

But the flask and its natural history contents formed a very minor
consideration just then.

"Are you hurt, my boy?" cried Mr Rogers quickly. "Sit down there.
Here, Dick, the spirit-flask. Now then, draw up your trouser-leg."

Jack obeyed, and Mr Rogers immediately stripped down the lad's rough
worsted stocking, taking out his penknife and preparing to make the tiny
punctures bleed freely, and to suck the fatal poison from the wounds.

"Does it pain you much?" said Mr Rogers excitedly; and his hands
trembled for a moment, but only to grow strong directly.

"No," sai