The Colonel rode
ahead, with the two cowboys close behind, all three ropers
mounted on their best horses--the Colonel on "the paint,"
Loveless on his black, and Means on the big-boned bay. Every
member of the party was especially cautioned to keep a sharp
lookout on both sides of the road.
Just as the day before, the morning came hot and still, and for
hour after hour the straggling safari crawled slowly over the
long waves of the undulating veldt. The road was a wagon track
always vanishing in front toward the head of the valley. The land
lay silent beneath the glaring sunlight.
We outspanned at noon for an hour. Over the country here grew
small, scattered thorn trees, thick with thorns but with scarcely
any leaves, so that the shade beneath them was thin and could
shelter no more than one horse. The water in the canteens, cold
at the start, had become warm now.
When we mounted again, the sweat had dried on the horses, and the
boots felt stiff on our feet. The line of the road still
stretched away its interminable length until it disappeared in
the distance.
And then, as we crawled sleepily ahead over the rises, the
Colonel was the first to notice the lion spoor in the dust.
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