told.



CHAPTER IV

THE LAST VIGIL

For a while Leonard sat by the body of his brother. The daylight grew
and gathered about him, the round ball of the sun appeared above the
mountains.

The storm was gone. Were it not for some broken fragments of the
vanished hut, it would have been difficult to know even that it had
been. Insects began to chirrup, lizards ran from the crevices of the
rocks, yonder the rain-washed bud of a mountain lily opened before his
eyes. Still Leonard sat on, his face stony with grief, till at length
a shadow fell upon him from above. He looked up--it was cast by a
vulture's wings, as they hurried to the place of death.

Grasping his loaded rifle Leonard sprang to his feet. Nearer and nearer
came the bird, wheeling above him in lessening circles: it forgot the
presence of the living in its desire for the dead. Leonard lifted the
rifle, aimed and fired. The report rang out clearly on the silent air,
and was echoed from krantz and kloof and mountain side, and from above
answered the thud of the bullet. For a moment the smitten bird swayed
upon its wide pinions, then they seemed to crumple beneath its weight,
and it fell heavily and lay flapping and striking at the stones with its
strong beak.