Well, the full moon came up in silver glory and after I had taken a good
look at her for luck, also at all the veld within sight, I turned in. An
hour or two later some noise from the direction of the cattle-kraal woke
me up. As it did not recur, I thought that I would go to sleep again.
Then an uneasy thought came to me that I could not remember having
looked to see whether the entrance was properly closed, as it was
my habit to do. It was the same sort of troublesome doubt which in
a civilised house makes a man get out of bed and go along the cold
passages to the sitting-room to see whether he has put out the lamp.
It always proves that he _has_ put it out, but that does not prevent a
repetition of the performance next time the perplexity arises.

I reflected that perhaps the noise was caused by the oxen pushing their
way through the carelessly-closed entrance, and at any rate that I had
better go to see. So I slipped on my boots and a coat and went without
waking Hans or the boys, only taking with me a loaded, single-barrelled
rifle which I used for shooting small buck, but no spare cartridges.

Now in front of the gateway of the cattle-kraal, shading it, grew a
single big tree of the wild fig order. Passing under this tree I looked
and saw that the gateway was quite securely closed, as now I remembered
I had noted at sunset. Then I started to go back but had not stepped
more than two or three paces when, in the bright moonlight, I saw the
head of my smallest ox, a beast of the Zulu breed, suddenly appear
over the top of the wall. About this there would have been nothing
particularly astonishing, had it not been for the fact that this head
belonged to a dead animal, as I could tell from the closed eyes and the
hanging tongue.

"What in the name of goodness----" I began to myself, when my