They rode mile after mile in the yellow moonlight, until they discerned a mob of cattle feeding placidly near some big scrub.

They whistled to the blacks, and all rode away down wind to a spot on the edge of the plain, a considerable distance from the cattle.
Here they dismounted and waited, Considine and Charlie talking occasionally in low tones, while the blacks sat silent, holding their horses.

Carew lay down on the long dry grass and gazed away over the plain.

His horse stood over him with head down, apparently sleeping.
Far away under the moon, in vague patches of light and shade, the cattle were feeding.

Hours seemed to pass, and Carew almost fell asleep.
Suddenly a long-drawn bellow, the angry challenge of a bull, broke the silence.