“Rather. You’ll see. But get back a little more. You’re showing too much. An old bushbuck ram is no end of a slim beast. The least sight of you, and he’ll double back. Ah! Now they’re starting.”
“Are these bucks dangerous?” asked Evelyn, her excitement for the moment somewhat clouded by the feminine instinct of scare. It would have been different, of course, had she been beside one of the men—her host or Elvesdon for instance—but when her only bulwark was merely another girl, why the thing seemed to take on a different aspect.
“Dangerous? Good Lord, no. But a wounded ram, who’s still got the use of his legs, well it doesn’t do to go up to him. They’ve got beastly horns, and I’ve twice seen a dog stuck through and through.”
The English-bred girl looked at the Colonial one, with some curiosity, a touch of increased respect and a great deal of admiration. The flush of excitement which had come into Edala’s cheeks, the sparkle in her fearless blue eyes, rendered the face surpassingly beautiful.
“Oh, I’m not afraid with you, dear,” rejoined Evelyn. “Only—you must bear with an ignoramus.”
“Ssh!” said Edala, holding up a hand. “No more talking now.”