a dense mist. However, they rose, made a fire with reeds and dead wood
which they gathered on the banks of the river, and ate, waiting for the
fog to vanish.

But it did not vanish, so about nine o'clock they continued their
journey under Soa's guidance, following the east bank of the river
northwards. The ground proved easy to travel over, for, with the
exception of isolated water-worn boulders of granite, the plain was
perfectly smooth and covered with turf as fine as any that grows in
northern lands.

All that day they marched on, wandering like ghosts through the mist,
and guided in their path by the murmuring sound of the river. They met
no man, but once or twice great herds of hairy creatures thundered past
them. Leonard fired into one of these herds with an express rifle, for
they wanted meat, and a prodigious snorting and bellowing told him that
his shot had taken effect. Running to the spot whence the sounds came,
he found a huge white bull kicking in its death struggle. The animal
was covered with long white hair like that of the British breed of wild
cattle, and measured at least seventeen hands in height. Round it stood
others snorting with fear and wonder, that, when they saw Leonard, put
down their heads threateningly, tearing up the turf with their great
horns. He shouted aloud and fired another shot, whereon they turned and
disappeared into the mist.

This happened towards nightfall, so they determined to camp upon the
spot; but while they were engaged in skinning the bull an incident
occurred that did not tend to raise their spirits. At sunset the sky
cleared a little--at least the sinking sun showed red through the mist
as it does in a London fog of the third density. Against this red ball