We had not much time to ourselves, for we were kept continually busy, and we dared not talk together very much, because some of the natives of the village could understand our words, but now and again, out in the forest or at night, we were able to tell each other how we were getting on, and to condole with one another over our misfortunes. Now my master discovered that I was good at climbing and at catching bats, so when the bat season came on he often sent me into the forest to search for some. One day I went out on such a quest and did not return until evening. I took the bats I had caught to the chief, and afterwards went off to the shed where my companions were sitting. They all seemed very quiet, and scarcely gave me a welcome, and this was unusual, especially when I brought meat in from the forest. I threw myself down amongst them, and looking round the group I missed Siene, a little girl slave with whom I was on very good terms. “Where is Siene?” I asked of the others. “O Bokwala,” answered one, “do not ask, we do not want to tell you.” “But I want to know. Is she ill? Or has she escaped?” I inquired, thinking the latter hardly possible for a girl alone. “Bokwala,” said one, beckoning me to follow him, “come.” I followed him to an open space at the end of one of the huts, and pointing to the ground, he said to me, “Look there; that is all that is left of Siene.” I looked and started back. Could it be? Yes, it was only too true—that dark stain on the ground was blood. And little by little I heard the whole terrible story. The chief had visitors, and he determined on a feast in their honour, and as a dainty morsel was indispensable, he decided to kill and serve up the body of my little girl friend. It was on that very spot where we stood that the deed had been committed. And that dark stain was all that was left of my friend! That night I was drunk with anger, and so were the other boys. There was no one but us boys and girls to weep for Siene, but we wept until we wept ourselves to sleep for sorrow; sorrow not only for her, but for ourselves as well; for we knew not how soon we might be treated in the same way. Time passed on, and we grew more and more accustomed to our surroundings, and as we boys proved useful to our masters, we had a certain amount of liberty, and went to fish and hunt frequently, but always for the benefit of our respective masters—nothing we caught was reckoned as our own property. And we were not always in favour. If anything was lost or stolen, we were accused of the deed; if we failed to obey or understand, we were beaten or punished in some other way; and if one of us was found to have lied, we had to pay the price, which was sometimes a heavy one. One boy who told his master a lie was found out, and the master with one slash of his knife cut the boy’s ear off, cooked it over the fire, and compelled the slave to eat it. That was a bad master, they were not all like that.