By evening, they were sitting in the snug living room. Outside, a summer storm was raging, and as Uncle Vernon had predicted, the power was out. Nobody minded. An assortment of candles and paraffin lamps were casting a soft, gentle light through the room.

Earlier, Helga had stuffed them to bursting point on one of her dishes.

"Impala schnitzel mit home-grown vegetables," she had announced. "Mein own recipe, und better zan anysink in any restaurant."

They had hardly finished their meal when the power went out, and they all retired to the living room. It doubled as art gallery, and the walls were lavishly decorated with an assortment of Uncle Vernon's paintings and drawings, from large canvases of big game, to intimate landscapes and portraits.

Uncle Vernon and Dr. Lawrence were playing a game of chess, Alice was expanding her already prodigious knowledge of the world by reading old issues of National Geographic and Laura was petting Eugene, who had taken a liking to her and was sitting with his huge head in her lap.

There was a knock on the door.

"Ah, that should be Mabuza," said Uncle Vernon. "I have been expecting him. Excuse me for a moment."

He got up and went to open the door, returning a few seconds later with a companion.

"Allow me to introduce my new manager, Mr. Frank Mabuza," he said. Mabuza smiled pleasantly and shook hands with everyone. He was tall, with dark brown skin and impressive-looking muscles rippling under his khaki T-shirt.

"Would you excuse us for a few minutes? We have to go talk business in my office." Uncle Vernon and Mabuza disappeared down the hallway, and only returned fifteen minutes later.

"Well, thanks for coming, Frank," said Uncle Vernon. "Say, perhaps you would be so kind as to take the children for a look around the place some time?"

"It would be a pleasure," replied Mr. Mabuza.

"Frank here grew up in this area," added Uncle Vernon. "What he doesn't know about the local wildlife is truly not worth knowing. He was brought up by his grandfather, who was a tracker for some of the last of the colonial hunters of old, and who taught him everything he knew. And then Frank went on and got himself a master's degree in wildlife management as well. We all live in awe of the man."

Mr. Mabuza modestly laughed all this off. "I have to get going," he said. "Goodnight everyone." Uncle Vernon accompanied him to door to see him off, and then returned to the living room.

"Well, things are not looking too bright for the area's wildlife. Frank has just returned from Matumi next door to find out more about the poaching there. We seem to be dealing with a highly organised group, I fear."

"So not just a few poor locals trying to feed their kids then?" asked Dr. Lawrence.

"No, I fear this bunch is in it for the money, and as always when money is involved, they get absolutely ruthless. Frank just told me they not only killed the rhinos, they also murdered a game warden at the reserve. Before he died, he managed to give some sort of description of his killers. They do not sound like people merely trying to survive. They shot him, and the rhinos, with automatic weapons. And apparently they were well dressed, with all the latest in bush wear. Almost like professional soldiers of some sort. We are going to have our work cut out for us. I do not have rhinos here, but you can be sure they will sooner or later come steal game here for the pot, if nothing else."

Dr. Lawrence was looking more and more worried as Uncle Vernon talked. "I'm beginning to wonder if now is the best time for the kids to have a holiday here," he said.

"Oh, I don't think you need to worry too much. I will keep an eye on them, and ask Mabuza to do the same. Besides, they are not babies, are they?"

All three youngsters nodded vigorously at their uncle. "You really worry too much, dad. A century ago, I would have been considered an adult," said Francis.

"Well, there you said it," said Dr. Lawrence. "You are fourteen years old. At least, most of you are," he said with a glance at Laura. "If you're going to want to be treated like adults, I expect of you to behave like adults. I'm going to leave Uncle Vernon with instructions to send you straight home at the first sign of any trouble at all."

"Well, that is that then," said Uncle Vernon. "Issue settled, and don't you kids think I will not honour your father's request. Consider yourself to be closely watched!" He growled this in an attempt at sounding threatening, but he was also smiling.

"Now, let us leave all the unpleasantness behind. You are after all here for a holiday, and a holiday we shall have. Victor, I resign," he said and knocked over his own king on the chessboard. "I can't think strategically on a pleasant evening like this. Excuse me for a moment."

He disappeared down the hallway and returned shortly with a sketchbook and a few pencils. He now sat down in his chair, looked around and then proceeded to scribble with the confident hand of a master artist.

The rest of the evening was spent in agreeable companionship. Uncle Vernon drew masterful and hilarious caricatures of everyone, including himself, Alice continued her reading, Laura gave more attention to an ecstatically happy Eugene, and Francis and his father simply stared dreamily at nothing in particular.

It did not take long for everyone to get pleasantly drowsy, and by nine everyone retired to their bedrooms. They would be getting up early to see off Dr. Lawrence on the rest of his trip, and to go hiking around the farm, if the weather permitted.

To this end, they had already earlier in the evening packed sandwiches and water bottles in their backpacks. Alice added a field guide or two, and Francis packed his small field binoculars.

But now, they all went to get some much needed rest.

Dr. Lawrence did not fall asleep immediately. Despite the assurances of Uncle Vernon, he remained worried about leaving his children and their cousin in an area with a recent outbreak of dangerous criminal activity.

Francis also took some time to fall asleep, and for the same reason. He lay in his bed, listening to the rain drumming on the roof and the leaves of the marula tree outside his window, and wondering what, if anything, could be done about the poaching in the area. He was not by nature reckless, but he disliked the thought of just doing nothing.

I cannot just turn my back on such things, he thought. If we run into these creeps, then whatever I can do, I will do.

With this thought still in his mind, he drifted off to sleep.