In another minute old Hans Coetzee came out and patted him warmly on the
shoulder, in a way that seemed to say that, whatever others might think
of the insufficiency of his powers of falsehood, he, for one, quite
appreciated them, and announced that it was time to be moving.

Accordingly the party climbed into their carts or on to their
shooting-horses, as the case might be, and started. Frank Muller, John
noticed, was mounted as usual on his fine black horse. After driving
for more than half an hour along an indefinite kind of waggon track, the
leading cart, in which were old Hans Coetzee himself, a Malay driver,
and a coloured Cape boy, turned to the left across the open veldt, and
the others followed in turn. This went on for some time, till at last
they reached the crest of a rise that commanded a large sweep of open
country, and here Hans halted and held up his hand, whereon the
others halted too. On looking out over the vast plain before him John
discovered the reason. About half a mile beneath them was a great herd
of blesbuck feeding, three hundred or more of them, and beyond them
another herd of some sixty or seventy much larger and wilder-looking
animals with white tails, which John at once recognised as vilderbeeste.
Nearer to them again, dotted about here and there on the plain, were a
couple of dozen or so of graceful yellow springbuck.

Now a council of war was held, which resulted in the men on
horseback--among whom was Frank Muller--being despatched to circumvent
the herds and drive them towards the carts, that took up their stations
at various points, towards which the buck were likely to run.

Then came a pause of a quarter of an hour or so, till suddenly, from
the far ridge of the opposite slope, John saw a couple of puffs of white