With delight I observed that the vulture is a very conservative creature.  They all did what doubtless they have done since the days of Adam or earlier—­wheeled, and then hung that little space of time before they dropped to the ground like lead.  This, then, would be the moment at which to shoot them, when for four or five seconds they offered practically a sitting target.  Now, at that distance, always under a hundred yards, I knew well that I could hit a tea plate every shot, and a vulture is much larger than a tea plate.  So it seemed to me that, barring accidents, I had little to fear from the terrible trial of skill which lay before me.  Again and again I covered the hovering birds with my rifle, feeling that if I had pressed the trigger I should have pierced them through.

Thinking it well to practise, I continued this game for a long while, till at last it came to an unexpected end.  Suddenly I heard a scuffling sound.  Dropping my glance I saw that the whole mob of aasvogels were rushing in upon Hans, helping themselves forward by flapping their great wings, and that about three feet in front of them was their king.  Next instant Hans vanished, and from the centre of that fluffy, stinking mass there arose a frightful yell.

As a matter of fact, as I found afterwards, the king vulture had fastened on to his snub nose, whilst its dreadful companions, having seized other portions of his frame, were beginning to hang back after their fashion in order to secure some chosen morsel.  Hans kicked and screamed, and I rushed in shouting, causing them to rise in a great, flapping cloud that presently vanished this way and that.  Within a minute they had all gone, and the Hottentot and I were left alone.

“That is good,” I said.  “You played well.”

“Good! baas,” he answered, “and I with two cuts in my nose in which I can lay my finger, and bites all over me.  Look how my trousers are torn.  Look at my head—­where is the hair?  Look at my nose.  Good!  Played well!  It is those verdomde aasvogels that played.  Oh! baas, if you had seen and smelt them, you would not say that it was good.  See, one more second and I, who have two nostrils, should have had four.”

“Never mind, Hans,” I said, “it is only a scratch, and I will make you a present of some new trousers.  Also, here is tobacco for you.  Come to the bush; let us talk.”

So we went, and when Hans was a little composed I told him all that I had observed about the habits of the aasvogel in the air, and he told me all that he had observed about their habits on the ground, which, as I might not shoot them sitting, did not interest me.  Still, he agreed with me that the right moment to fire would be just before they pounced.

Whilst we were still talking we heard a sound of shouts, and, looking over the brow of the hill that faced towards Umgungundhlovu, we saw a melancholy sight.  Being driven up the slope towards us by three executioners and a guard of seven or eight soldiers, their hands tied behind their backs, were three men, one very old, one of about fifty years of age, and one a lad, who did not look more than eighteen.  As I soon heard, they were of a single family, the grandfather, the father, and the eldest son, who had been seized upon some ridiculous charge of witchcraft, but really in order that the king might take their cattle.