ile the Zulu listened attentively,
trying to comprehend every word. "Now then, Jack, how shall you go to
work? There is a little herd of half-a-dozen springbok there, on that
hill, nearly a mile away."

"Get close and shoot them," replied Jack, stoutly.

"Say, if you can, my boy," replied Mr Rogers, smiling. "Now look here,
Jack, this is the way the Boers shoot springbok, and I don't think you
will find a better plan. Have a few cartridges handy, so that you can
load quickly, and then gallop easily towards the herd, which will begin
playing about, till they grow too alarmed to let you get nearer, and
then they'll bound off. This is your time: gallop up as close as you
can, and when you see they are about to go, leap from your horse and
fire--reload, and fire again. If you are very quick you may get three
shots at the herd before they are out of range."

"But suppose I miss, father?" said Jack.

"Don't suppose anything of the kind, my boy," said Mr Rogers, smiling;
"but go and do it. Time enough to consider failure when you have
failed."

Jack nodded, opened the breech of his gun, placed half-a-dozen
cartridges ready, leaped down to tighten the girths of his saddle, the
cob standing perfectly still. Then mounting once more, he waved his
hand, touched his horse's sides with his heels, and away it went like
the wind.

As he started, Chicory, who seemed to have adopted him as his leader,
made a bound at the saddle, caught hold of the pommel, and ran by his
side with marvellous speed.

The springbok seemed to pay not the slightest heed to their approach,
and Jack was beginning to feel excited with the chase, and to calculate
how far they should be able to get before having to dismount, when all
at once there was a sudden check; he went flying over his horse's head,
his double barrel escaped from his hand, and he found himself lying on
the hard sandy earth, confused and puzzled, with Chicory trying to pull
him up; and Stockings standing close by, snorting and shivering with
fear.

Jack got up, and limped to where his rifle lay, feeling stupid, and
wondering how it was that he had been thrown; and he had but regained
his piece, and was ruefully examining it, when his father and Dick came
galloping up.

"Much hurt, my boy?" cried Mr Rogers, eagerly.

"Only my leg and arm a little," said Jack, rubbing first one and then
the other; "but I did think I could ride better than that, father."

"Ride, my boy? Wh