Well, he was a thief and would run his road to whatever end is appointed for thieves, so why should I bother my head more about him?
As I had kept my honour--let him take my savings.
But I had a son to support, and now what was I to do with scarcely three hundred pounds, a good stock of guns and this little Durban property left to me in the world?
Commerce in all its shapes I renounced once and for ever.

It was too high--or too low--for me; so it would seem that there remained to me only my old business of professional hunting.

Once again I must seek those adventures which I had forsworn when my evil star shone so brightly over a gold mine.

What was it to be?
Elephants, I supposed, since these are the only creatures worth killing from a money point of view.

But most of my old haunts had been more or less shot out.
The competition of younger professionals, of wandering backveld Boers and even of poaching natives who had obtained guns, was growing severe.
If I went at all I should have to travel farther afield.
Whilst I meditated thus, turning over the comparative advantages or disadvantages of various possible hunting grounds in my mind, my attention was caught by a kind of cough that seemed to proceed from the farther side of a large gardenia bush.