An hour or two later some noise from the direction of the cattle-kraal woke me up.

As it did not recur, I thought that I would go to sleep again.
Then an uneasy thought came to me that I could not remember having looked to see whether the entrance was properly closed, as it was my habit to do.

It was the same sort of troublesome doubt which in a civilised house makes a man get out of bed and go along the cold passages to the sitting-room to see whether he has put out the lamp.
It always proves that he _has_ put it out, but that does not prevent a repetition of the performance next time the perplexity arises.
I reflected that perhaps the noise was caused by the oxen pushing their way through the carelessly-closed entrance, and at any rate that I had better go to see.

So I slipped on my boots and a coat and went without waking Hans or the boys, only taking with me a loaded, single-barrelled rifle which I used for shooting small buck, but no spare cartridges.
Now in front of the gateway of the cattle-kraal, shading it, grew a single big tree of the wild fig order.

Passing under this tree I looked and saw that the gateway was quite securely closed, as now I remembered I had noted at sunset.