y, no one could have helped that. Don't you know how
it was?"

"I know Stockings threw me," replied Jack.

"Threw you? Nonsense, boy! He set his fore feet in an ant-bear hole,
and turned a complete somersault. We were afraid that he had rolled
upon you."

"Then a good rider couldn't have helped it, father?"

"Helped it? No, my boy."

"Oh, I feel better now," said Jack, laughing; and, limping up to his
horse, he patted its neck and remounted, though not without difficulty.
"Where's the bok, Chicory?"

Chicory pointed to where they were, nearly a mile away, and looking
exceedingly small, but quite clear in the bright African atmosphere; and
without a word he set off again.

"Ought he to go, father?" said Dick.

"Yes, my boy. He is not much hurt, and it will be a lesson to both him
and his horse. I am glad to see that he has so much spirit."

A short chuckle close by made Mr Rogers turn his head, and he saw that
the Zulu understood his words, and was smiling approval.

"Brave boy! Make big hunter warrior, some day," said the Zulu.

"Boss Dick big brave hunter too," cried Coffee indignantly, as he went
and laid a hand upon the neck of Dick's horse. "Boss Dick go shoot
bok?"

"Not now, Coffee," replied Dick, smiling; and then the little group
remained watching Jack, who was in full chase of the springbok, which,
as he came nearer, began to skip and bound and gambol together, leaping
over each other's backs, but all the time watching the coming enemy.

It was an exciting time for Jack, and in it he forgot the pain in his
shoulder and the stiffness of his leg. He had the rifle-barrel ready
cocked, and his feet out of the stirrups, and at last, when he had
galloped up to within a couple of hundred yards, he saw such evident
preparations for flight on the part of the little bok, that he leaped
down, dropped upon one knee, and fired straight at the flying herd.

Before the smoke had risen he had another cartridge in the rifle, and
fired again. Once more he threw open the breech and loaded--and fired,
though by this time the bok were seven or eight hundred yards away. But
in spite of the care in the aim taken, no bok fell struggling to the
ground, and Jack rode back slowly to join his father, wondering whether
the bore of his rifle was true, for he knew, he said to himself, that he
had aimed straight.

When he hinted at the possibility of the rifle being in fault, his
father smiled, and Dick gave him