Once more they were alone on the sunny plain with its tall buffalo grass, alone except for Jack whose head and chest only could be seen above the tall grass some distance away. He waved a hand and they replied similarly, but he was too far away to make himself heard except by shouting and so did not call to them.
Perhaps five minutes had elapsed during which no immediate sounds except the drone of huge flies and the tiny hum of insects broke the somnolent stillness. The boys spoke now and then in low voices, but in the main were silent. Bob’s keen glance played continually along the edge of the marsh, but Frank had taken seat on the film box and was sunk in revery.
Suddenly Bob’s hand gripped his shoulder, and Bob’s voice whispered low:
“Sh. Here he comes.”
Frank sprang to his feet and gazed in the direction indicated by Bob.
A huge brute with dark, dun-colored hide had parted the reeds of the marsh not fifty yards away. He stood sideways at the edge of the plain, formidable horned head lifted as if listening to the distant sounds of the beaters.
“He eluded them in some way,” whispered Frank. “What a picture.”
Swinging the lens of the camera about until he brought the rhino into focus, he began to turn the crank.
The rhino abandoned his listening attitude and, dropping his head, began to move slowly forward on a line bringing him midway between Jack and Frank. Although his legs were short and ponderous, so huge was his body that it towered above the buffalo grass which parted before him like water before a scow.
Over him fluttered a perfect cloud of small birds, like a swarm of bees hiving on a bough. They made continual darts at the huge back, picking off ticks and performing his toilet for him. The boys had heard this phenomenon described, but had never witnessed it, the only rhinos they had seen heretofore being those captives in Zoos.