At last all was over and we started homewards, the man with a broken leg being carried in a kind of litter.  On the edge of the bush-veld we found the waggon quite safe, also one of Captain Robertson’s that had followed us from Strathmuir in order to carry the expected load of hippopotamus’ hides and ivory.  I asked my voorlooper if anything had happened during our absence.  He answered nothing, but on the previous evening after dark, he had seen a glow in the direction of Strathmuir which lay on somewhat lower ground about twenty miles away, as though numerous fires had been lighted there.  It struck him so much, he added, that he climbed a tree to observe it better.  He did not think, however, that any building had been burned there, as the glow was not strong enough for that.

I suggested that it was caused by some grass fire or reed-burning, to which he replied indifferently that he did not think so as the line of the glow was not sufficiently continuous.

There the matter ended, though I confess that the story made me anxious, for what exact reason I could not say.  Umslopogaas also, who had listened to it, for our talk was in Zulu, looked grave, but made no remark.  But as since his tree-climbing experience he had been singularly silent, of this I thought little.

We had trekked at a time which we calculated would bring us to Strathmuir about an hour before sundown, allowing for a short halt half way.  As my oxen were got in more quickly than those of the other waggon after this outspan, I was the first away, followed at a little distance by Umslopogaas, who preferred to walk with his Zulus.  The truth was that I could not get that story about the glow of fires out of my mind and was anxious to push on, which had caused me to hurry up the inspanning.

Perhaps we had covered a couple of miles of the ten or twelve which still lay between us and Strathmuir, when far off on the crest of one of the waves of the veld which much resembled those of the swelling sea frozen while in motion, I saw a small figure approaching us at a rapid trot.  Somehow that figure suggested Hans to my mind, so much so that I fetched my glasses to examine it more closely.  A short scrutiny through them convinced me that Hans it was, Hans and no other, advancing at a great pace.

Filled with uneasiness, I ordered the driver to flog up the oxen, with the result that in a little over five minutes we met.  Halting the waggon, I leapt from the waggon-box and calling to Umslopogaas who had kept up with us at a slow, swinging trot, went to Hans, who, when he saw me, stood still at a little distance, swinging his apology for a hat in his hand, as was his fashion when ashamed or perplexed.

“What is the matter, Hans?” I asked when we were within speaking distance.

“Oh!  Baas, everything,” he answered, and I noticed that he kept his eyes fixed upon the ground and that his lips twitched.