It was like a water-meadow at home, such a place as I had often in boyhood searched for moss-cheepers' and corncrakes' eggs.

Birds were crying round me as I broke this solitude, and one small buck--a klipspringer--rose from my feet and dashed up one of the gullies.

Before me was a steep green wall with the sky blue above it.
Beyond it was safety, but as my sweat-dimmed eyes looked at it I knew that I could never reach it.
Then I saw my pursuers.

High up on the left side, and rounding the rim of the cup, were little black figures.

They had not followed my trail, but, certain of my purpose, had gone forward to intercept me.