The doe followed, though not so fast, and soon fell into the rear.
The buck, perceiving this, suddenly halted--as if ashamed of his want of gallantry--wheeled round, and galloped back, until he was once more between the doe and the odd thing that had alarmed him.
What could this odd thing be?
he now seemed to inquire of himself.

It was not a lion, nor a leopard, nor a hyena, nor yet a jackal.

It was neither fox, nor fennec, nor earth-wolf, nor wild hound, nor any of his well-known enemies.

It was not a Bushman neither, for they are not double-headed as it appeared.

What _could_ it be?
It had kept its place--it had not pursued him.