of a cross, one at the top, one at the bottom, one on each side, and space inside for him to lie down.  Inside he made a bed of reeds, from which he could draw supplies as they were needed.  He fired the top pile, and then, after a long wait, the bottom one, and when that had burnt down to embers, and the night was far advanced, he stretched himself out, protected by four smouldering heaps of ash, that glowed like four red eyes in the dark.

He looked up at the stars for a long time as he rested in his lonely camping-ground, and then dropped into an uneasy sleep.  Something awoke him very soon, and his eyes opened on the dark vault above.  A booming noise reached him.  It was the grunt of a lion this time, but far off—­a deep monotonous sound made by the lion on the trot, with his mouth near the ground.  It was very far off, and with a sigh of relief he closed his eyes.  And then he heard the sound again, and knew it was not the lion that had awakened him.  He rose on his elbow and peered about, but the darkness came right up to the ash-heaps, looking white now instead of red.  He placed a handful of dry reeds on the nearest heap and blew.  There was a glow, a flicker, and then a flare.  In the reflection he saw dimly a patch of white, then another patch next it.  This roused him, so that he set all the four fires going again, and, with his rifle ready, he stood up to see what manner of visitors these were with the white marks.

He had heard slight noises as he fed the fires, and now the reeds rustled, but he could see no living form.  Sitting down, he laid a few handfuls of reeds ready to each fire, then waited with shaken nerves, for there was something mysterious about this visitation.  The fires flared up and sunk back to red embers, and yet there was no sign.  The embers took on a covering of grey ash, then the rustling began anew, and the white objects reappeared.  He turned his head, and saw that they stretched right round!  What the dickens were they?  He strained his sight, and, at first indistinctly and then clearly, he saw the gleam of eyes above each white patch.  Softly he laid a few reeds on the embers, and as they crackled he saw one of the white objects move.  As the flame mounted up, he made out an animal with round ears and brindled hide, staring nervously at the fire.  It was a wild-dog!  Only a dog, and with a “shoo!” he thought to scare the creature off.  The yellow eyes went from the fire to his face, a red tongue slithered out over the black nose, and the dog sat down again.  All round were the white breasts of the pack, as they sat in silence and stared.  He searched about for a missile, found an empty cartridge, and threw it.  A dog leapt up and sniffed.  The circle seemed to close in.

He shouted at them, and they gave back a yelp, but never stirred.