“Look out for his mate,” said Renshaw, remounting. “Pythons often go in couples. And I am sorry to say there are a good many snakes about here.”
“Baugh! Bau—augh!”
The loud sonorous bark echoed forth in startling suddenness among the overhanging cliffs. But it didn’t seem to come from high overhead. It sounded almost in their path.
“Baboons!” said Renshaw. “They must be all round our water-hole. There they are. No—on no account fire.”
The poort here widened out. Grassy slopes arose to the base of the cliffs. In the centre lay a rocky pool, whose placid surface glittered mirror-like in the gloaming. But between this and the horsemen was a crowd of dark, uncouth shapes. Again that loud warning bark sounded forth—this time overhead, but so near that it struck upon the human ear as almost menacing.
“Baboons, eh?” said Sellon, catching sight of the brutes. “I’m going to charge them.”
Renshaw smiled quietly to himself.
“Charge away,” he said. “But whatever you do, don’t fire a shot. It may bring down upon us a very different sort of obstructive than a clompje of baviaans, and then this undertaking is one more added to the list of failures, even if we get out with whole skins.”
But Maurice hardly heard him to the end, as, spurring up his horse, he dashed straight at the troop of baboons. The latter, for their kind, were abnormally large. There might have been about threescore of the great ungainly brutes, squatting around on the rocks which overhung the pool.
As the horseman galloped up they could be seen baring their great tusks, grinning angrily. But they did not move.