The boys passed the afternoon searching the south bank for signs of a creek, and in the evening the Okapi shaped her course across to a likely spot they had marked out.  But though they found a creek, it was not one that commended itself as a hiding to Mr. Hume, and it was not till after a wearisome hunt for hours in the dark that they found a channel leading through the hills which he agreed to follow up; and then, when they had entered about a mile, Muata, with his jackal, was landed to “feel” around for native paths or villages.  Muata, after a long absence, reported all safe as far as he could judge, and they tied up.  In the morning they found themselves in the thick of the woods, and pushed on down a dark and sluggish stream strewn with fallen timber, till they came to a pool in a gorge.  Here they resolved to leave their boat.

They took the Okapi to pieces, stowed them away in a dry cavern in the krantz, covered them with the tarpaulins, and pushed on down through the gorge on foot, emerging beyond the hills which bordered the Congo into a rolling country, park-like in appearance.  They studied the land well before they continued, first for signs of native villages, and next for game.  Smoke rose far away to the right, but nearer, the country seemed deserted, and as plenty of game appeared in sight, they determined to camp on the slopes of the hill.  So they looked about for a good pitch, and made choice of a sunny spot at the foot of a rocky cliff, not far from the stream they had followed, and well screened from view by a thicket of bush in the front.  They stowed away their blankets in a small cave at the base of the cliff, and then started off for the first hunt, the boys in a fine state of excitement.  They struck into a game-path leading through thick scrub, and five minutes from the start there was a sullen snort, a tremendous crashing in the woods, as if, at least, a herd of elephant were stampeding.  Mr. Hume dashed down the game-path, and before the boys could see what manner of beast it was, he had fired and bowled it over with a bullet behind the ear.

“A bit of luck,” he said, as they reached him.

“What is it?” asked Venning, glancing around with bright eyes.

“A buffalo, over there.”

The two boys saw a dark form on the ground, half hidden by a bush, and were running forward.

“Quietly,” said the hunter.  “Always approach dangerous game cautiously when they are down—­especially buffalo;” and with his finger on the trigger he went up slow-footed.

But the buffalo was stone-dead—­a great bull with an immense boss between the bend of his sharp horns.

“It’s the luck of hunting,” said Mr. Hume, as the boys walked round the great beast.  “Some days you never get a shot, and other times you find game at your back door, so to speak.  One of you boys will stay with Muata to skin and cut up.  It will be a good lesson.”

The two looked at each other, and then away over the plain.  Skinning and cutting up was not exactly amusing.