"Don't jump over a gate when you can open it, bossie. I crep' out of the mealies and cast round the house; but for all I'd seen where that young Kaffir went it were many minutes afore I saw the spoor--then it were as slight as a brush of a hare's tail. But there it were--the spoor of a man in _veldschoens_. You know, there's no heel to a _veldschoen_, and it leaves little sign; but this yer chap had a habit of stickin' his toes into the ground, and here and there he had kicked up a tuft o' grass. Well, I laid down to that spoor, marking the direction the Kaffir had taken, and went at a trot, thinking all the time it were mighty queer for one Kaffir to leave his friends. When I reached the wood it was easier going, for in the bush path the naked spoor of the chief was plain enough in the dust. The spoor led deeper into the wood, crossed a stream where the white man had drunk, for there was the print of his corduroys where he had knelt, and then climbed a hill, when I went slow. The darkness was coming on, and I reckoned that the chief couldn't be but a mile ahead. Neither he nor me could spoor in the dark, so I guessed he would pull up, an' I didn't want to run in on his assegai. Turnin' away from the trail I pegged out under a rock until the spreuws whistled before sun-up, when I crept once more on the trail. 'Twere very faint now, but bymby I come on fresh spoor--so fresh I jest squatted behind a tree. Then, after a time, I marked where this new sign entered the path, and follering it back came on the spot where the chief had slept. The beggar had turned back on his trail a matter o' fifty paces, and if so be I'd follered him in the evening he'd a' had me sure." "He was up to his work!" "Him--I guess so, lad. He were a caution for cunnin' and bush learnin', were the chief." "What chief was he?"