"We have a grand supper to-night," said Alexander; "what shall I help you to—harte-beest, sassaby, or rhinoceros?"
"Thank you," replied the Major, laughing; "I'll trouble you for a small piece of that rhinoceros steak—underdone, if you please."
"How curious that would sound in Grosvenor Square."
"Not if you shot the animals in Richmond Park," said Swinton.
"Those rascally Hottentots will collect no fuel to-night if we do not make them do it now," said the Major. "If they once begin to stuff it will be all over with them."
"Very true; we had better set them about it before the feast begins. Call Bremen, Omrah."
"Having given their directions, our party finished their supper, and then Alexander asked Swinton whether he had ever known any serious accidents resulting from the hunting of the rhinoceros.
"Yes," replied Swinton; "I once was witness to the death of a native chief."
"Then pray tell us the story," said the Major. "By hearing how other people have suffered, we learn how to take care of ourselves."
"Before I do so, I will mention what was told me by a Namaqua chief about a lion; I am reminded of it by the Major's observations as to the means animals have of communicating with each other. Once when I was traveling in Namaqua-land, I observed a spot which was imprinted with at least twenty spoors or marks of a lion's paw; and as I pointed them out a Namaqua chief told me that a lion had been practicing his leap. On demanding an explanation, he said that if a lion sprang at an animal, and missed it by leaping short, he would always go back to where he sprang from, and practice the leap so as to be successful on another occasion; and he then related to me the following anecdote, stating that he was an eye-witness to the incident: