him of drinking, and generally did not altogether trust him.  Anscombe, however, was fond of him because he had shown courage in some hunting adventure in Matabeleland, I think it was at the shooting of that very dark-coloured lion whose skin had been the means of making us acquainted nearly two years before.  Indeed he said that on this occasion Footsack had saved his life, though from all that I could gather I do not think this was quite the case.  Also the man, who had been on many hunting trips with sportsmen, could talk Dutch well and English enough to make himself understood, and therefore was useful.

He went as I bade him, and coming back presently, told me that a party of Basutos, about thirty in number, who were returning from Kimberley, where they had been at work in the mines, under the leadership of a Bastard named Karl, asked leave to camp by the wagon for the night, as they were afraid to go on to “Tampel” in the dark.

At first I could not make out what “Tampel” was, as it did not sound like a native name.  Then I remembered that Mr. Marnham had spoken of his house as being called the Temple, of which, of course, Tampel was a corruption; also that he said he and his partner were labour agents.

“Why are they afraid?” I asked.

“Because, Baas, they say that they must go through a wood in a swamp, which they think is haunted by spooks, and they much afraid of spooks;” that is of ghosts.

“What spooks?” I asked.

“Don’t know, Baas.  They say spook of some one who has been killed.”

“Rubbish,” I replied.  “Tell them to go and catch the spook; we don’t want a lot of noisy fellows howling chanties here all night.”

Then it was that Anscombe broke in in his humorous, rather drawling voice.

“How can you be so hard-hearted, Quatermain?  After the supernatural terror which, as I told you, I experienced in that very place, I wouldn’t condemn a kicking mule to go through it in this darkness.  Let the poor devils stay; I daresay they are tired.”

So I gave in, and presently saw their fires beginning to burn through the end canvas of the wagon which was unlaced because the night was hot.  Also later on I woke up, about midnight I think, and heard voices talking, one of which I reflected sleepily, sounded very like that of Footsack.

Waking very early, as is my habit, I peeped out of the wagon, and through the morning mist perceived Footsack in converse with a particularly villainous-looking person.  I at once concluded this must be Karl, evidently a Bastard compounded of about fifteen parts of various native bloods to one of white, who, to add to his attractions, was deeply scarred with smallpox and possessed a really alarming squint.  It seemed to me that Footsack handed to this man something that looked suspiciously like a bottle of squareface gin wrapped up in dried grass, and that the man handed back to Footsack some small object which he put in his mouth.