We followed after it.

I was the first, and had just wriggled round these rocks and perceived the buck standing about ten paces away (it was a bush-bok), when I heard a rustle among the bushes on the top of the rock not a dozen feet above my head, and Charlie Scroope's voice calling: "Look out, Quatermain! He's coming." "Who's coming ?" I answered in an irritated tone, for the noise had made the buck run away.
Then it occurred to me, all in an instant of course, that a man would not begin to shout like that for nothing; at any rate when his supper was concerned.

So I glanced up above and behind me.

To this moment I can remember exactly what I saw.

There was the granite water-worn boulder, or rather several boulders, with ferns growing in their cracks of the maiden-hair tribe, most of them, but some had a silver sheen on the under side of their leaves.