At last they started, and all hoped to have better luck than the day before. Steve was a fairly good shot at a target, in fact he was (like most South Africans) a born shot; but he had never had a chance to practise rifle shooting at a distance at real game, but he was a good hand at bird shooting with a shot-gun. Ever since he was a boy of twelve, he used to scrape his pennies together to buy powder and shot, and go pigeon-shooting with an old muzzle-loading shot-gun, which had formerly belonged to his father, and a good hand he learned to be at it by such practice. It was one of the few kinds of sport he enjoyed; he loved shooting. For the above reasons, Steve longed to bring down a real antelope of some kind, but he was doomed to disappointment. The game was too shy, and kept at a distance, requiring a really good shot to bring them down. Theron was the only one to kill that day. After a long walk in the hot sun and among the trees, Theron succeeded, by taking a good steady aim (and being told what sight to put on by Oom Ignatious) at a buck standing broadside on, unaware of their presence, in bringing it down. Oom Ignatious refused to shoot, as he said he did not like to spoil their sport, but inwardly he thought that, after the previous day’s occurrence--of which he had been told by Steve--it would be too unkind to humiliate the poor young greenhorns by a display of his accurate aim, for he knew that with him to shoot was to kill. The sun was hot and heavy, thunder-clouds were beginning to rapidly cover the sky, so it was determined to return home as fast as possible before the heavy storm, which was surely coming on, broke on them. CHAPTER XXV A TERRIBLE THUNDER STORM