"Did you shoot all these, Allan Quatermain?"

"Yes," I answered proudly; "I killed them in four shots, and the pauw
and koran were flying, not sitting, which is more than you could have
done, although you are taller, Miss Marie."

"I do not know," she answered reflectively. "I can shoot very well with
a rifle, for my father has taught me, but I never would shoot at living
things unless I must because I was hungry, for I think that to kill is
cruel. But, of course, it is different with men," she added hastily,
"and no doubt you will be a great hunter one day, Allan Quatermain,
since you can already aim so well."

"I hope so," I answered, blushing at the compliment, "for I love
hunting, and when there are so many wild things it does not matter if we
kill a few. I shot these for you and your father to eat."

"Come, then, and give them to him. He will thank you," and she led the
way through the gate in the sandstone wall into the yard, where the
outbuildings stood in which the riding horses and the best of the
breeding cattle were kept at night, and so past the end of the long,
one-storied house, that was stone-built and whitewashed, to the stoep or
veranda in front of it.

On the broad stoep, which commanded a pleasant view over rolling,
park-like country, where mimosa and other trees grew in clumps, two men
were seated, drinking strong coffee, although it was not yet ten o'clock
in the morning.