always retreated very slowly and noisily. Scouts in the rearguard were
continually ascending small trees or bushes for a better look at us,
then leaping down to make disparaging remarks. One lot seemed to show
such variation in colour from the usual that we shot one. The distance
was about two hundred and fifty yards. Immediately the whole band--a
hundred or so strong--dropped on all fours and started in our direction.
This was rather terrifying. However, as we stood firm, they slowly came
to a halt at about seventy yards, barked and chattered for a moment,
then hopped away to right and left.




XXIX.

THE LESSER KUDU.


About eight o'clock, the evening of our first day on the Swanee, the
heat broke in a tropical downpour. We heard it coming from a long
distance, like the roar of a great wind. The velvet blackness, star
hung, was troubled by an invisible blurring mist, evidenced only through
a subtle effect on the subconsciousness. Every leaf above us, in the
circle of our firelight, depended absolutely motionless from its stem.
The insects had ceased their shrilling; the night birds their chirping;
the animals, great and small, their callings or their stealthy rustling
to and fro. Of the world of sound there remained only the crackling of
our fires, the tiny singing of the blood in our ears, and that far-off
portentous roar. Our simple dispositions were made. Trenches had been
dug around the tents; the pegs had been driven well home; our stores had