An hour later, and they were in the swampy bush country that lay behind
the encampment searching for their game. Within a very little while
Nahoon held up his hand, then pointed to the ground. Hadden looked;
there, pressed deep in the marshy soil, and to all appearance not ten
minutes old, was the spoor of a small herd of buffalo.

"I knew that we should find game to-day," whispered Nahoon, "because the
Bee said so."

"Curse the Bee," answered Hadden below his breath. "Come on."

For a quarter of an hour or more they followed the spoor through thick
reeds, till suddenly Nahoon whistled very softly and touched Hadden's
arm. He looked up, and there, about two hundred yards away, feeding
on some higher ground among a patch if mimosa trees, were the
buffaloes--six of them--an old bull with a splendid head, three cows, a
heifer and a calf about four months old. Neither the wind nor the nature
of the veldt were favourable for them to stalk the game from their
present position, so they made a detour of half a mile and very
carefully crept towards them up the wind, slipping from trunk to trunk
of the mimosas and when these failed them, crawling on their stomachs
under cover of the tall _tambuti_ grass. At last they were within forty
yards, and a further advance seemed impracticable; for although he could
not smell them, it was evident from his movements that the old bull
heard some unusual sound and was growing suspicious. Nearest to Hadden,
who alone of the party had a rifle, stood the heifer broadside on--a
beautiful shot. Remembering that she would make the best beef, he lifted
his Martini, and aiming at her immediately behind the shoulder, gently
squeezed the trigger. The rifle exploded, and the heifer fell dead, shot