Thereafter I put up the shutters after dark, and shifted my bed to a part of the room out of line with the window.
It was the same out of doors.

I would suddenly be conscious, as I walked on the road, that I was being watched.

If I made as if to walk into the roadside bush there would be a faint rustling, which told that the watcher had retired.

The stalking was brilliantly done, for I never caught a glimpse of one of the stalkers.

Wherever I went--on the road, on the meadows of the plateau, or on the rugged sides of the Berg--it was the same.