at a hazard. The bullet passed through the bull, but could not stop its
charge. Its horns, held low, struck the forelegs of the horse, and next
instant horse, man, and wilderbeeste rolled on the veld together.

Benita, who was fifty yards behind, uttered a little cry of fear, but
before ever she reached him, her father had risen laughing, for he was
quite unhurt. The horse, too, was getting up, but the bull could rise
no more. It struggled to its forefeet, uttered a kind of sobbing groan,
stared round wildly, and rolled over, dead.

"I never knew a wilderbeeste charge like that before," said Mr.
Clifford. "Confound it! I believe my horse is lamed."

Lamed it was, indeed, where the bull had struck the foreleg, though,
as it chanced, not badly. Having tied a handkerchief to the horn of the
buck in order to scare away the vultures, and thrown some tufts of dry
grass upon its body, which he proposed, if possible, to fetch or send
for, Mr. Clifford mounted his lame horse and headed for the waggon. But
they had galloped farther than they thought, and it was midday before
they came to what they took to be the road. As there was no spoor upon
it, they followed this track backwards, expecting to find the waggon
outspanned, but although they rode for mile upon mile, no waggon could
they see. Then, realizing their mistake, they retraced their steps, and
leaving this path at the spot where they had found it, struck off again
to the right.

Meanwhile, the sky was darkening, and at about three o'clock in the
afternoon a thunderstorm broke over them accompanied by torrents of icy
rain, the first fall of the spring, and a bitter wind which chilled them
through. More, after the heavy rain came drizzle and a thick mist that