"`This. Listen. I followed the evil thing. It led me across the veld and a thorn caught me by the leg. It was a warning, but I did not heed, I went on across the ridge to the kloof, and into the kloof to a hollow tree. I heard the owl cry, the night-bird calling in the day, giving another warning, but I was deaf. I smelt honey, and there were no bees flying in the hole; but the smell of honey was strong. Into the hole I was about to thrust my arm when I saw on the bark long scratches. I looked up through the plume on my head, so, without turning my face, and up above on a branch I saw a black form stretching out and yellow eyes fixed on me; at the same time out of the hollow of the tree there came a low laugh, strange, fearful, not of man, and with a spring backwards and a bound sideways, I was off like the deer, with the roar of the black tiger in my ears.' "So said Bolo, and without further words he took his kerries and his bag, and he went away over the hill to the north, running. Yes, lad, he quit at a gallop." "And what do you think of this story, Uncle Abe?" "I've done a lot of thinking about it. I thunked that there wooden shetter for the window as a protection." "Surely you don't believe that Bolo was led deliberately by the honey-bird to the tiger?" "Maybe I do. Maybe the bird led him to a sure enough bee-tree. Maybe Bolo happened on the black critter. Maybe he were skeered at a shadder. I dunno; but I tell you I see the bird laf fit to bust, and there's more in the ways of these animiles than we can catch hold of--a jolly sight more." "Well, then, bring your gun along and we'll put the dog on the tiger's spoor." "Not this child! No, no, sonny! You leave me to get the blind side of that tiger; but I've got my own plan, and it's not tracking him I am when he's on the watch. Not me." "What plan, Uncle?"