"Because the bullet struck the left front leg," they both said.
"They learn the signs, Muata. They will be hunters yet. Tell them if the lion be hard hit, chief."
Muata waded into the river, which reached to his armpits at the deepest, and bent over something on the further shore. They undressed, and waded through to him.
"Congela," he said, pointing to the bank. "The great ones came out here. The great, great one was not sore hurt, for he came right through, using all his feet to swim."
"It will be luck, then, if we find him," said the hunter.
"Bad luck," muttered Compton to Venning, with a grin.
"Forward, little friend!" cried Muata. "Search and find. It is a great hunt this day. We follow the hunter of all things."
They slipped into their clothes and followed at a trot after the jackal, which ran straight on, its bushy tail held low. It followed the river down for a mile or so, then stopped, looking back at its master.
Mr. Hume and the chief stood silently inspecting the hard ground, then they walked on a few yards. The same thoughts seemed to come to each, as the boys judged from their actions; for from the ground their eyes ranged over the land, then were turned skywards. Muata pointed a finger at a ringed crow flying with bent head.
"They killed," said Mr. Hume.