At the outset the spoor was very easy to follow. The ground in the immediate neighbourhood of the village was soft red soil, on which the print of feet could be clearly seen. But it was impossible at first to distinguish the marks of the raiders from those of the villagers. Presently, however, they came to a stretch of grass-land, the grass cropped short by the villagers’ cattle. Here again the trail was so crossed and mingled with the hoof-marks of the animals that had grazed there since daybreak that it was impossible to learn anything from it. But by and by the grass grew longer, and the passage of a numerous body of men through it was plainly indicated. There were two distinct tracks, one a narrow path, the other, a few yards to the left, broader. Both the white men were sufficiently experienced in African travel to know that the former was the track of the bearers among the party, proceeding in single file; the latter that of the Swahilis, who, insolent in their strain of Arab blood, domineer over the native tribes. "They’re going pretty fast," said John, as they marched on; "fast, that is, for men carrying loads." "How do you know?" asked Ferrier. "By the look of the spoor. Stop a minute and bend down. Here are the footprints of the niggers, you see, about thirty inches apart. Every man trod in the steps of the man in front, so that the prints are particularly clear. I know they went fast because their feet turned in a lot; look at the marks; you can’t carry a load at any pace with your feet splayed. Now look at the other trail. The footsteps are farther apart--three feet, I should think; and one or two of the men had sandals; there’s a flatter impression than bare feet make. I rather guess that the Swahilis set the pace and made the natives keep up: they could do that because if there’s a lot of them they needn’t all carry loads at the same time." "I say, we could have done without Bill," said Ferrier, with a laugh, as they went on. "Did he teach you that?" "No. I did some scouting at school. Bill can’t make any inferences from what he sees, but he’s got sharper eyes than I have, and can often spot the trail when I’ve lost it, especially on hard ground. The worst of this habit of marching in Indian file is that one can’t tell how many the party consists of; at least, I can’t; perhaps a more experienced scout could judge from the depth of the impression of the footprints. Look here; just as I thought. They stopped here to change loads. The Swahilis made a group here; the carriers put their loads on the grass at the side of the path; see how it’s pressed down. Here’s the mark of one of my ammunition boxes, I’ll swear; and the next man had a cargo of maize; here are some of the grains." "How far do you reckon they went before camping?"