"No, Tom," I said; "I should not think that just or right. I believe that they have been killing our cattle, but I must catch them in the act, and know for certain what blacks they are, before I take the law into my own hands. As to driving them away from the Rocks, it is their own country, and I will not attack them there till they have done something in my presence to deserve it." "Take your own way," said the old man, sullenly. He lit his pipe, and said no more. That night, about midnight, the dogs began to bark in a violent and furious manner, running out into the darkness and returning with all the appearance of having seen something hostile and unusual. We turned out promptly, and, gun in hand, went out some distance into the darkness. The night was of a pitchy Egyptian darkness, in which naught was visible a hand's breadth before one. Once we heard a low murmur as of cautious voices, but it ceased. Suddenly the black boy, Tommy, who had crept a few yards farther, came tearing back past us, and raced into the hut, where, apparently in an agony of fear, he threw himself down among the ashes of the fireplace, ejaculating, "Wild blackfellow, wild blackfellow!" to the great discomposure of Mrs. Burge. We fired off a gun to let them know that we were prepared, and separating so that we surrounded the hut on three sides of a front, and could retreat upon it if hard pressed, awaited the attack. It was rather an exciting moment. The dark midnight, the intense stillness, broken only by the baying of the dogs and the "mysterious sounds of the desert"; the chance of a rush of the wild warriors, who, if unchecked at the onset, would obliterate our small outpost--all these ideas passed through my mind in quick succession as we stood to our guns, and shouted to them to come on.