Not much of this remark did I think, as I took my way down the now well worn bush path, but I own that the idea of employing Ukozi to throw light on the disappearance of Hensley, gave me something to think of-- for as I have said before, I had reason to respect the powers claimed-- and undoubtedly possessed--by many of his craft. I would put it to Kendrew. It was his affair not mine, and if anyone moved in the matter it should be he. There was an ominous stillness about the Sewins' homestead as I approached, and I own to a feeling of considerable disappointment as the thought crossed my mind that the family was away, but reassurance succeeded in the shape of a large white dog, which came rushing furiously down the path, barking in right threatening fashion--only to change into little whines of delight and greeting as it recognised me. This was a factor in the Sewin household which I have hitherto omitted to introduce. He was one of the Campagna breed of sheep herding dogs, and was Aida's especial property, she having discovered him as a puppy during a tour in Italy. He was a remarkably handsome beast, pure white, and was of the size and strength of a wolf, to which he bore a strong family likeness. He had honoured me with his friendship from the very first--a mark of favour which he was by no means wont to bestow upon everybody, as his mistress was careful to point out. "Well, Arlo, old chap. Where are they all?" I said, as the dog trotted before my horse, turning to look back with an occasional friendly whine. As I drew rein in front of the stoep Falkner came forth, looking very handsome and athletic in his snowy linen suit, for it was hot. "Hallo Glanton, glad to see you," he said, quite cordially, but in rather a subdued tone for him. "Come round and off-saddle. They'll be out in a minute, they're having prayers, you know. I slipped out when I heard your horse." It was Sunday, and the Major, I remembered, made a point of reading the church service on that day: in the middle of which I had arrived. "Tell you what, old chap," he went on. "I'm rather glad of the excuse. Beastly bore that sort of thing, don't you know, but the old people wouldn't like it if I were to cut." "Only the old people?" I said. "No, the whole bilin' of 'em. Life wouldn't be worth living for the rest of the day if I didn't cut in. So I do--just to please them all. See? Well, we'll go and smoke a pipe till they come out."