ing on the ant-hill. In length the ant-eater was not more than
three feet, and it was engaged shooting out its tongue into the heap,
which tongue, being covered with some glutinous substance, always
returned black with ants. The spot was comparatively quiet, for the
time at least, and the rhinoceros did not seem in the least alarmed. He
was a huge, heavy, massive creature, of a pale brown colour, carrying
two horns, one very long and pointed, the second short, strong, but
blunt. The longer one rose just above the tip of the nose, and seemed a
most dangerous arm. Above the shoulders was a kind of hump. An uglier
brute certainly could not have barred the path which ran towards the
river; but the moohoohoo would have been perhaps inoffensive had not
Masheesh, confiding, doubtless, in the power of the English rifle, crept
towards him, throwing his spear. The weapon struck fairly and well, but
glanced from the tough hide as though it had been hurled against a brick
wall, and being made of the soft native iron, it literally curled up
with the force of the blow. Having thrown his spear, which elicited
only a wrathful grunt from the animal, Masheesh bolted, just as the huge
mass put itself in motion, advancing straight up the path. Luji and the
rest disappeared among the reeds and bushes, but Captain Hughes had just
time to fire, the ball glancing from the mailed coat like a child's
marble.

"Look out!" shouted the missionary; but it was too late, and the next
moment the unlucky soldier was lying on the ground, with the enormous
bulk of the rhinoceros standing over him.

"Lie still, for God's sake," cried Wyzinski, as he unslung the heavy
rifle, seeing that the animal did not strike at the fallen man. He was
just in the act of raising it to his shoulder, when, attracted by the
horse, the moohoohoo suddenly charged, the long pointed horn literally
burying itself in the pony's flank, just behind the rider's leg, the
rifle harmlessly exploding as horse and rider rolled over. Not pausing
for a second blow, the enraged brute drove on, eventually shambling
through the line of natives, who opened their ranks gladly to let him
pass.

Rising unwounded, but sorely shaken, Hughes extricated the missionary.

"Are you hurt, Wyzinski?" he asked, anxiously.

"Not a bit," was the reply; "but look at the poor grey."

"He is past saving," answered Hughes; and it was evident it was so, for
so frightfully had the sharp horn done i