the whole story that we may have a definite idea of your performances.”
“We had a splendid ride,” said Fritz, “down Glen Verdant, and away to the defile through our Rocky Barrier, and the morning was so cool and fresh that our steeds galloped along, nearly the whole way, at the top of their speed. When we had passed through the Gap we moderated our furious pace and kept our eyes open on the look-out for game; we then trotted slowly to the top of a grassy hill, from whose summit we saw two herds of animals, whether antelopes, goats, or gazelles, we did not know, grazing by the side of the stream below us. We were about to gallop down and try to get a shot at them, when it struck me that it would be wiser to try and drive the whole herd through the Gap into our own domain, where they would be shut up, as it were, in a park, free and yet within reach. Down the hill we rode as hard as we could go, formed in a semicircle behind the larger herd—magnificent antelopes—and, aided by the dogs, with shouts and cries drove them along the stream towards the Gap; as we came near the opening they appeared inclined to halt and turn like sheep about to be driven into the butcher's yard; and it was all we could do to prevent them from bolting past us; but, at length, one made a rush at the opening and, the rest following, they were soon all on the other side of the frontier and inhabitants of New Switzerland.”
“Capital,” I said, “capital, my boy! But I don't see what is to make them remain inhabitants of our domain, or to prevent them from returning through the Gap whenever they feel inclined.”
“Stop, father,” he replied, “you interrupted me too soon; we thought of that possibility too, and provided against it. We stretched a long line right across the defile and strung on it feathers and rags and all sorts of other things, which danced and fluttered in the wind, and looked so strange that I am perfectly certain that the herd will never attempt to pass it; in fact,
