covering himself, gave orders that the spectators should
be moved back to places where they could see what happened without
frightening the vultures. So the Boers, attended by their band of
soldiers, who were commanded to slay them at once if they attempted to
escape, went one way, and Dingaan and his Zulus went the other, leaving
Hans and myself alone behind our bush. As the white people passed me,
Vrouw Prinsloo wished me good luck in a cheerful voice, although I could
see that her poor old hand was shaking, and she was wiping her eyes with
the vatdoek. Henri Marais, also in broken tones, implored me to shoot
straight for his daughter's sake. Then came Marie, pale but resolute,
who said nothing, but only looked me in the eyes, and touched the pocket
of her dress, in which I knew the pistol lay hid. Of the rest of them I
took no notice.

The moment, that dreadful moment of trial, had come at last; and oh! the
suspense and the waiting were hard to bear. It seemed an age before the
first speck, that I knew to be a vulture, appeared thousands of feet
above me and began to descend in wide circles.

"Oh, baas," said poor Hans, "this is worse than shooting at the geese in
the Groote Kloof. Then you could only lose your horse, but now--"

"Be silent," I hissed, "and give me the rifle."

The vulture wheeled and sank, sank and wheeled. I glanced towards the
Boers, and saw that they were all of them on their knees. I glanced
towards the Zulus, and saw that they were watching as, I think, they had
never watched anything before, for to them this was a new excitement.
Then I fixed my eyes upon the bird.

Its last circle was accomplished. Before it pounced it hung on wide,
outstretched wings, as the others had done, its head towards me. I drew
a deep breath, lifted the rifle, got the foresight dead upon its breast,
and touched the hair-trigger. As the charge exploded I saw the aasvogel
give a kind of backward twist. Next instant I heard a loud clap, and a
surge of joy went through me, for I thought that the bullet had found
its billet. But alas! it was not so.

The clap was that of the air disturbed by the passing of the ball and
the striking of this air against the stiff feathers of the wings. Anyone
who has shot at great birds on the wing with a bullet will be acquainted
with the sound. Instead of falling the vulture recovered itself. Not
knowing the meaning of this unaccustomed noise, it dropped quietly to
earth and sat dow