"Well," said Mr. Blakeney, "I’ve heard of such a thing before, but I never expected to see natives driven by lions to make their huts among the branches of trees. Many years ago, when Moselikatse, father of Lobengula, swept over a great part of South Africa and destroyed whole kraals of Basutos and Bechuanas, the people were so reduced, and the lions, from feeding on human flesh, became so bold, that some of the tribesfolk were compelled for a time to roost among the trees in this way. But they must be poor creatures to put up with such a terrorism. A kraal, even a little one, of Zulus or Kaffirs, or indeed even Bechuanas and Basutos, would in ordinary circumstances never submit to such a state of things. They would just sally out, hunt up the lions in daylight, and kill them with their assegais. They might lose a few slain in the operation, but they would clear out the lions somehow." "I suppose," said Guy, "these poor creatures are too weak and too few in number to tackle a lion. They look far too depressed for anything of the kind." "Yes," replied Mr. Blakeney, "no doubt that’s the case. And, after all, one can hardly blame them. Even for a white man and a good shot, armed with a modern rifle, a lion is by no means a pleasant beast to tackle. One is never quite sure how the affray is going to turn out. The Zulus must have been hardy fellows indeed in the old days, in the time of Chaka and Dingaan, and Panda and Cetywayo. If a lion annoyed a kraal and killed oxen or goats, a number of young soldiers were told off to kill it. And kill it they had to, with their spears, and no other weapon. Of course, on the other hand, they knew that if they didn’t kill the lion, their own lives were forfeit. Chaka and Dingaan, and even Cetywayo, allowed of no failures of this kind. Cowardice meant death. Not that the Zulus ever feared death. A braver and bolder race of savages never existed." That afternoon the white man’s camp was visited by a number of the Berg Damaras. They were hospitably entertained, and regaled with coffee and some small presents. One of them noticed Peter, the wild boy, and, drawing his comrades’ attention to the child, they were soon engaged in a conversation of which the lad evidently was the main topic. Poeskop noticed this, and asked them what the boy was. They at once said that he was one of their own race, and asked the Bushman where the lad came from. Poeskop related the tale of his capture. This stirred much debate and interest among the group. They surrounded the child, examined him closely, handled him, and talked excitedly the while. Again the headman held animated converse with Poeskop. Meanwhile the white men gathered round. They could see that something of interest was passing.