It was with no little satisfaction then, after this adventure, that the hunting-party passed through the woody region they were then in, and came into the open, for during the last few hours everybody’s eyes had been diligently directed at the overhanging branches of the trees, Dinny being so observant that he two or three times tripped over prostrate boughs, and went down upon his nose.
As they passed out into the open they were in a rough plain, covered as far as they could see with coarse herbage; and hardly had the waggon emerged before Mr Rogers, who was using his glass, drew the General’s attention to some dark objects upon a slope some distance ahead.
The Zulu glanced at the dark shapes for a few moments, and then cried eagerly,—
“Buffalo!”
“Come along, Dick,” shouted Jack.
“Stop, stop!” exclaimed their father. “What are you going to do?”
“Shoot a buffalo, father.”
“If we can,” added Dick.
“But you must be careful. These buffalo are pretty fierce creatures, and dangerous at times.”
“Yes, very dangerous,” assented the Zulu. “Boss Jack—Boss Dick shoot one, and the boys drive one to him.”