To return to Hans’ story.  He saw us march down to the borders of the lake, and, keeping to our right, took cover behind the knoll of rock, whence he watched also all that followed.  When Jana advanced to attack us Hans crept forward in the hope, a very wild one, of crippling him with the little Purdey rifle.  Indeed, he was about to fire at the hind leg when Marut made his run for life and plunged into the lake.  Then he crawled on to lead me away to the camel, but when he was within a few yards the chase returned our way and Marut was killed.

From that moment he waited for an opportunity to shoot Jana in the only spot where so soft a bullet would, as he knew, have the faintest chance of injuring him vitally—­namely, in the eye—­for he was sure that its penetration would not be sufficient to reach the vitals through that thick hide and the mass of flesh behind.  With an infinite and wonderful patience he waited, knowing that my life or death hung in the balance.  While Jana held his foot over me, while he felt me with his trunk, still Hans waited, balancing the arguments for and against firing upon the scales of experience in his clever old mind, and in the end coming to a right and wise conclusion.

At length his chance came, the brute exposed his eye, and by the light of the clear moon Hans, always a very good shot at a distance when it was not necessary to allow for trajectory and wind, let drive and hit.  The bullet did not get to the brain as he had hoped; it had not strength for that, but it destroyed this left eye and gave Jana such pain that for a while he forgot all about me and everything else except escape.

Such was the Hottentot’s tale as I picked it up from his laconic, colourless, Dutch patois sentences, then and afterwards; a very wonderful tale I thought.  But for him, his fidelity and his bushman’s cunning, where should I have found myself before that moon set?

We mounted the camel after I had paused a minute to take a pull from a flask of brandy which remained in the saddlebags.  Although he loved strong drink so well Hans had saved it untouched on the mere chance that it might some time be of service to me, his master.  The monkey-like Hottentot sat in front and directed the camel, while I accommodated myself as best I could on the sheepskins behind.  Luckily they were thick and soft, for Jana’s pinch was not exactly that of a lover.

Off we went, picking our way carefully till we reached the elephant track beyond the mound where Jana had appeared, which, in the light of faith, we hoped would lead us to the River Tava.  Here we made better progress, but still could not go very fast because of the holes made by the feet of Jana and his company.  Soon we had left the cemetery behind us, and lost sight of the lake which I devoutly trusted I might never see again.