“Quite; but they are coming in this direction. Dyke, boy, we must make up our mind to get one of these.”
“But we could never get it home. They’re bigger than bullocks.”
“Let’s shoot one, and then talk of getting it home. What about a span of oxen and a couple of hurdles! We could drag it back, and it would make biltong, and so last us for weeks.”
“Ugh! Leather!” cried Dyke.
“And give us plenty of fresh meat for present eating, and fat to cook for months.”
“Don’t make my mouth water too much, Joe.”
“Hush! Be quiet now; move close up to your horse’s shoulder, rest your gun across it, and then you will be better hidden. Are you loaded all right?”
“Bullet in each barrel.”
“That will do. Now mind, if we do get a chance at one, you will aim just at the shoulder. Try and don’t be flurried.”
“All right.”