The boys fell silent. The danger was brought home to them, as the explorer intended, and they realized the grim law of the white man in savage places--that whatever happened, whoever perished, he must survive. It is not a merciful law; Schoverling was not one of the generous-hearted kind who treat the native as an equal at such times. He was an average, self-preserving Caucasian, who was only merciless when his own life hung in the balance. The boys had been trained in the same school, and fully realized the force of his words. "The Masai are holding up finely," he went on, "but we'll have to watch them close. At any minute they may get sick of things and try to rush us. That means trouble, which I hope will not come." Charlie joined him silently in that hope, though from the behavior of the natives he could hardly believe that they would turn on the whites. However, the conversation was soon shifted by the discovery of a herd of giraffes to the north. "Long range, I s'pose?" queried Jack, getting out his heavy gun. The Indians were armed with the lighter ones. "Yes," returned the explorer. "We'll never get up on them in this territory. Fire high, when they begin to run, or we'll lose them." The giraffes saw them plainly enough, but they got to within four hundred yards before the herd began to shift. All drew rein instantly, the trained horses standing stone still, and just as the herd took alarm and broke into their lumbering, awkward-looking gallop, the six rifles rang out. The lighter weapons of the Indians seemed to have no effect. Charlie saw the bull at which he aimed stagger and go down. Another stopped with a broken shoulder, and Jack's second barrel finished it. Schoverling fired again, but either missed a vital place or his bullet went wide, for a moment later the herd was gone in a cloud of dust. "Never mind," he cried gayly, reloading as they trotted forward. "Two will be all we can carry in, and will help out wonderfully. They are poor eating for us, but the Masai will be overjoyed." Reaching the two dead giraffes, all leaped from their horses and set about cutting up the bodies. At last it was finished. Spattered with blood, the boys got the heavy loads on their quivering, blood-sniffing horses after some delay, and set about returning to the wagon. "Where is it?" exclaimed the explorer. "Surely we can't have lost it?" But, even with their powerful glasses, no sign could they see of the little safari. In all directions the plain stretched out dry, white, dusty, with no moving speck to break the monotony. The general cased his glasses in disgust. "I was so interested in giving you my warning that I forgot to take any thought of our direction, and the doctor has my compass. Let's see--we've been riding about northeast." "Here," cried Jack, pointing to the dusty plain, "there's no wind, so we can follow the tracks. It's a cinch."