We followed many depressions, in which might be lions, until about three
o'clock in the afternoon. Then we climbed the gently-rising long slope
that culminated, far above the plains, in the peak of a hill called
Bondoni. From a distance it was steep and well defined; but, like most
of these larger kopjes, its actual ascent, up to the last few hundred
feet, was so gradual that we hardly knew we were climbing. At the summit
we found our men and the bullock cart. There also stood an oblong
blockhouse of stone, the walls two feet thick and ten feet high. It was
entered only by a blind angle passage, and was strong enough,
apparently, to resist small artillery. This structure was simply an
ostrich corral, and bitter experience had shown the massive construction
absolutely necessary as adequate protection, in this exposed and
solitary spot, against the lions.

We had some tea and bread and butter, and then Clifford Hill and I set
out afoot after meat. Only occasionally do these hard-working settlers
get a chance for hunting on the plains so near them; and now they had
promised their native retainers that they would send back a treat of
game. To carry this promised luxury, a number of the villagers had
accompanied the bullock wagon. As we were to move on next day, it became
very desirable to get the meat promptly while still near home.

We slipped over to the other side, and by good fortune caught sight of a
dozen zebras feeding in scrub half-way down the hill. They were out of
their proper environment up there, but we were glad of it. Down on our
tummies, then, we dropped, and crawled slowly forward through the high,
sweet grasses. We were in the late afternoon shadow of the hill, and we
enjoyed the mild skill of the stalk. Taking advantage of every cover,