"I have fallen on my wounded arm and the pain's awful," he responded; then as if he had tried, he added, "no, I don't think you can reach me, for it's precious deep. But can't you find some way to get me out of this infernal place?" "What shall we do?" I asked, turning to Mr Ferguson, "how ever are we to help him?" "The darkness may make him misjudge the depth," he replied. "Let us try to reach the poor fellow." Lying flat on the ground, therefore, I bade him, if possible, seize my hand, but soon found he was unable to do so--being remarkably short of stature, besides which his falling on his wounded arm had rendered him faint and unfit for exertion. "It is useless," said Mr Ferguson, after he also had tried. "One of us must go to the bush, and get some baboon ropes." I was on my feet in an instant, but the next moment's reflection made me say-- "That plan would be useless, sir, for in this vast plain, even if I got the ropes, how could I find you again in the darkness, and to call for directions would undoubtedly bring the Kaffirs upon us." "True; you ever have your wits about you, Galbraith, but what are we to do?" "Why the moon will be up in less than half an hour, and whatever the danger, we must wait till then." Having told Jack what we were compelled to do, and bidding him rest assured we would not leave him, we took our places at the pit's mouth to wait. We did not speak for we had no heart to. Even at the very moment, the vast plain was perhaps peopled with beasts in search of prey, which each instant they might find in our vicinity. The brave man may face a danger, however terrible, without the quiver of a nerve when he _does_ face it; but it would require the bravest, if indeed, the one ever did exist, who could sit calmly in the midst of a strange country, which he knows to be inhabited by Kaffirs, lions and tigers, and feels that any moment the spear of the one, or the fangs of the other might be quivering in his flesh, without his being able to raise a hand in self-defence. I own, for my part it was a time of terror, and my blood even now runs chill in my veins when I recall the sensations I then experienced. Once, Jack broke the silence in a rather loud whisper, saying,-- "I say, Dick Galbraith, old fellow just ask the minister to take a peep at that book-larning he carries in his head, and see if he can't tell me why this cussed hole was made--if its natur or Kaffir architecture." "I believe, my friend," answered the minister, "that you have fallen into a pit, dug by its depth, to catch giraffes. Ah! by the way, tell me, is there not a bank of earth left in the centre?" "Yes," answered Thompson, "that there is; and but for my arm, I'd climb it and be out in a jiffy, but this here member burns--saving your presence, Mr Ferguson--like blazes, and won't move no how." While he was talking, an idea occurred to me, and I said,--