The new Mauser rifle, which the Government had given him a year or two before, was freshly oiled and its working order inspected.

The bandolier, filled with bright new cartridges, was swung over his shoulder, and then, after putting a Testament into his coat pocket, he was ready to proceed.

He despised a uniform of any kind as smacking of anti-republican ideas and likely to attract the attention of the enemy.

The same corduroy or mole-skin trousers, dark coat, wide-brimmed hat, and home-made shoes which he was accustomed to wear in every-day life on the farm were good enough for a hunting expedition, and he needed and yearned for nothing better.

A uniform would have caused him to feel uneasy and out of place, and when lions were the game he wanted to be thoroughly comfortable so that his arm and aim might be steady.