A faint far-off answer he thought he heard; but when he fired again he could detect no sound but the whispering murmur.

He cut a couple of stout reeds, fitted one into the other, tied his handkerchief to the top, and planted the pole on the mound.

Then he placed the buck at the foot of the pole, covered it with an armful of reeds, took a long look around, and started off once more.

He was resolved to keep straight on, path or no path, but after a tussle with the serried ranks of reeds, with their razor- like leaves, he soon gave up that idea as hopeless, and took again to the paths--going very slowly, and taking his direction at intervals.

But, try as he would, there were the kinks and twists in the paths which turned him out of his course.