was a gloomy place indeed; the great wide-topped trees grew thick there
shutting out the sight of the sky; moreover, the air in it which no
breeze stirred, was heavy with the exhalations of rotting foliage. There
seemed to be no life here and no sound--only now and again a loathsome
spotted snake would uncoil itself and glide away, and now and again a
heavy rotten bough fell with a crash.

Hadden was too intent upon the buffalo, however, to be much impressed
by his surroundings. He only remarked that the light would be bad for
shooting, and went on.

They must have penetrated a mile or more into the forest when the sudden
increase of blood upon the spoor told them that the bull's wound was
proving fatal to him.

"Run now," said Hadden cheerfully.

"Nay, _hamba gachle_--go softly--" answered Nahoon, "the devil is dying,
but he will try to play us another trick before he dies." And he went on
peering ahead of him cautiously.

"It is all right here, anyway," said Hadden, pointing to the spoor that
ran straight forward printed deep in the marshy ground.

Nahoon did not answer, but stared steadily at the trunks of two trees a
few paces in front of them and to their right. "Look," he whispered.

Hadden did so, and at length made out the outline of something brown
that was crouched behind the trees.