"As you may imagine," Reinecke went on, "I don’t know all the people. My Arabs look after them. And I shouldn’t have known anything about this voluntary slave but for the fact that I mistook him for Mirambo’s son, and one of the overseers corrected me. It appears that when we landed our stores from the _Hedwig von Wissmann_ that day, we were one porter short, and this fellow, a sturdy lad, was hanging about and appeared to have nothing to do. He was engaged and came up with the others and stayed on--works well, and is quite cheerful, I’m told. He’s astonishingly like Mirambo’s boy. Some of these niggers claim to be descended from their old kings or chiefs: Mirambo himself does; and it’s quite possible that this youth comes of the same stock. There’s a jotting for your note-book, if you are making notes, and I daresay you are." Again there was a covert sneer in the German’s tone. Tom felt that he would soon have to quarrel with his host. As soon as he should have come to a definite conclusion about the man’s integrity he would cut his visit short. It seemed, indeed, as if Reinecke was determined to make him feel that he had overstayed his welcome. Once or twice, when he asked that Mirambo or his son might accompany him shooting, Reinecke declared that he could not spare any of the men; it was the busiest time of the year, not a time for amusement. "But there’s no reason why you shouldn’t go alone, if you find idleness boring," he added once. "There are no dangerous beasts in our immediate neighbourhood. I’d only warn you not to go too far." Tom was glad enough to take him at his word. While the fruit-picking was going on, there was nothing for him to learn, and Reinecke had been so ungracious lately that companionship was impossible. So he went occasionally into the woods alone, never straying more than a mile or two from the plantation, and taking even more pleasure in quietly watching the smaller animals--the tree-lizards, chameleons, iguanas--than in shooting pigeons or teal. His hope of big-game hunting was apparently to remain unrealised. One day on returning he found Reinecke in a particularly good humour. "I have had a visit to-day from a high German officer, Major von Rudenheim," he said: "an excellent soldier. He came on the boat with you, of course: did you have the pleasure of conversing with him?" "No. He seemed to me too much of what we call a big pot." "True: our German officers are very much above civilians. In any case, however--you are not aware that I hold the rank of Captain of Landwehr? So we met, as it were, on equal terms, though he is a step higher in rank. And I have another piece of news for you. Eland have been seen near that small lake where we shot buck with Captain Goltermann, you remember. Would you like to add elands’ horns to your trophies?" "I should indeed," replied Tom, again wavering in his estimate of Reinecke. "He really isn’t a bad sort at times," he thought.