“There is,” said the stranger, raising himself, “an old woman in a cave over yonder, and there is one man in the bush, ten miles from this spot. He has lived there six weeks, since you destroyed the kraal, living on roots or herbs. He was wounded in the thigh, and left for dead. He is waiting till you have all left this part of the country that he may set out to follow his own people. His leg is not yet so strong that he may walk fast.” “Did you speak to him?” said Peter. “I took him down to the water where a large pool was. The bank was too high for the man to descend alone.” “It’s a lucky thing for you our fellows didn’t catch you,” said Peter. “Our captain’s a regular little martinet. He’d shoot you as soon as look at you, if he saw you fooling round with a wounded nigger. It’s lucky you kept out of his way.” “The young ravens have meat given to them,” said the stranger, lifting himself up; “and the lions go down to the streams to drink.” “Ah--yes--” said Peter; “but that’s because we can’t help it!” They were silent again for a little while. Then Peter, seeing that the stranger showed no inclination to speak, said, “Did you hear of the spree they had up Bulawayo way, hanging those three niggers for spies? I wasn’t there myself, but a fellow who was told me they made the niggers jump down from the tree and hang themselves; one fellow wouldn’t bally jump, till they gave him a charge of buckshot in the back: and then he caught hold of a branch with his hands and they had to shoot ‘em loose. He didn’t like hanging. I don’t know if it’s true, of course; I wasn’t there myself, but a fellow who was told me. Another fellow who was at Bulawayo, but who wasn’t there when they were hung, said they fired at them just after they jumped, to kill ‘em. I--” “I was there,” said the stranger. “Oh, you were?” said Peter. “I saw a photograph of the niggers hanging, and our fellows standing round smoking; but I didn’t see you in it. I suppose you’d just gone away?” “I was beside the men when they were hung,” said the stranger.