Having got the oxen, the next thing was to break them to the yoke; for, although docile creatures enough, they had never even seen a wagon. This proved a long and difficult process, involving many trial trips; moreover, the selected wagons, one of which had belonged to Pereira, must be mended with very insufficient tools and without the help of a forge. Indeed, had it not chanced that Hans, the Hottentot, had worked for a wagon-maker at some indefinite period of his career, I do not think that we could have managed the job at all. It was while we were busy with these tasks that some news arrived which was unpleasing enough to everyone, except perhaps to Henri Marais. I was engaged on a certain evening in trying to make sixteen of the Kaffir cattle pull together in the yoke, instead of tying themselves into a double knot and over-setting the wagon, when Hans, who was helping me, suddenly called out: “Look! baas, here comes one of my brothers,” or, in other words, a Hottentot. Following the line of his hand, I saw a thin and wretched creature, clad only in some rags and the remains of a big hat with the crown out, staggering towards us between the trees. “Why!” exclaimed Marie in a startled voice, for, as usual, she was at my side, “it is Klaus, one of my cousin Hernan’s after-riders.” “So long as it is not your cousin Hernan himself, I do not care,” I said. Presently the poor, starved “Totty” arrived, and throwing himself down, begged for food. A cold shoulder of buck was given to him, which he devoured, holding it in both hands and tearing off great lumps of flesh with his teeth like a wild beast. When at last he was satisfied, Marais, who had come up with the other Boers, asked him whence he came and what was his news of his master. “Out of the bush,” he answered, “and my news of the baas is that he is dead. At least, I left him so ill that I suppose he must be dead by now.” “Why did you leave him if he was ill?” asked Marais. “Because he told me to, baas, that I might find help, for we were starving, having fired our last bullet.” “Is he alone, then?” “Yes, yes, except for the wild beasts and the vultures. A lion ate the other man, his servant, a long while ago.” “How far is he off?” asked Marais again. “Oh, baas, about five hours’ journey on horseback on a good road.” (This would be some thirty-five miles.)