The mother, when she saw what had befallen her mate, did not attempt to escape. She looked at the prostrate body stupidly for a moment; then, as if suddenly realising the disaster, she placed her baby on the ground, and rose, as the male had done, to her feet with a barking roar. Ned and Fred meanwhile had fallen back a pace, and put another cartridge into their weapons. They were cool now that they had succeeded in their first shot. She repeated the tactics of the male, only moved more actively, not giving them so much time to aim. But their shots told all the same, even if she did not die so rapidly. With a shriek she fell forward, after she was shot, on to the body of her mate, and there she lay moaning and gasping piteously. Our heroes were transfixed with horror at this death-struggle. It almost felt as if they had committed murder. With her life-blood streaming out, the mother made a frantic endeavour to cover and protect her little one, who had run whimpering over to her. She half turned, and got one hairy arm round it, hiding it on her bosom, all the while those human-like moans and gasps broke from her. But the struggle was short. Even while Ned was aiming to finish her off, Cocoeni gripped his arm. "No use wasting bullets, baas. She is dead." Yes; the arm suddenly relaxed its maternal hold, while the moans and groaning ceased. Only the baby remained. Ned would fain have spared the little one, but the hunters were round it by this time, and it was fighting tooth and nail to resist them. Before our heroes were able to reach it, one of the men had plunged his spear ruthlessly through its body, and pinned it to the ground. With a series of shrill and plaintive cries, it writhed for a moment, then closed its little eyes, and was suddenly still. "I don't care much for baboon-hunting," said Ned, with a shudder, as he turned away, feeling sickish. "I hope we don't meet any more." "So do I," echoed Fred and Clarence, hoarsely. "If we had missed that fellow, you would have seen nothing more in this world," answered Cocoeni, deeply and sarcastically. "Let us get on," commanded Ned, shortly. Then, taking up their loads, they resumed their upward course. It was some hours before they could feel comfortable in their minds after that battue--that is, our heroes. The Kaffirs felt and showed no emotion whatever. Our heroes, however, walked silently and thoughtfully through the greater portion of that day, and when they camped that night, their prayers somehow did not give them the usual satisfaction. They felt as if they had assisted at a needless and cowardly massacre, and as if they merited punishment for committing an unworthy crime. They would have liked to have asked forgiveness for this action. Yet these were merely beasts who must have disputed their passage, soulless monstrosities, for whom it seemed ridiculous to feel pity. The first and second they had killed in self-defence.