"We ought to fall in with a patrol of Brathwaite's Horse lower down," remarked a man, stirring the contents of a three-legged cooking-pot with a wooden spoon. "Then we should be strong enough to take the bush for it and pepper Jack Kafir handsomely." "If we can find him," rejoined another with a loud guffaw. "Hallo! Who's this?" A dark form appeared in the hollow beneath. Immediately every man had seized his rifle, and the moment was a perilous one for the new arrival. "Hold hard! Don't fire!" cried Shelton. "It's only a single Kafir. Let's see what the fellow wants." And lowering their weapons they awaited the approach of a rather sulky looking native, who drew near with a suspicious and apprehensive expression of countenance. "Who are you and where do you come from?" asked Shelton. "From down there, _Baas_," replied the fellow, in fair English, jerking his thumb in the direction of a labyrinth of bushy kloofs stretching away beneath. "They have taken all my cattle--the Gcalekas have. I can show you where to find theirs." The men looked at each other and several shook their heads incredulously. "What are you? Are you a Gcaleka?" asked Shelton. "No, _Baas_. Bomvana. I'm Jonas. I'm a loyal Mission-station boy." "Oh, the devil you are! Now, then, Jonas, what about these cattle?" Then the native unfolded his tale--how that in the forest land immediately beneath them was concealed a large number of the Gcaleka cattle--a thousand of them at least. There were some men in charge, about sixty, he said, but still the whites might be strong enough to take the lot; only they would have to fight, perhaps. Carefully they questioned him, but from the main details of his story he never swerved. His object, he said, was to be revenged on the Gcalekas, who had billeted themselves in the Bomvana country and were carrying things with a high hand. But Shelton was not quite satisfied. "Look here, Jonas," he said impressively. "Supposing I were to tell you that this yarn of yours is all a cock-and-bull lie, and that you've come here to lead us into a trap? And supposing I were to tell half a dozen men here to shoot you when I count twenty? What then?" All eyes were fixed upon the native's face, as the leader left off speaking. But not a muscle therein quailed. For a minute he did not reply. Then he shook his head, with a wholly incredulous laugh. "Nay, _Baas_," he said. "_Baas_ is joking." "Well, you must be telling the truth or else you must be the pluckiest nigger in all Kafirland to come here and play the fool with us," said Shelton. "What do you say, boys? Shall we trust to what this fellow tells us and make a dash for the spoil?" An acclamation of universal assent hailed this proposal. In an incredibly short space of time the horses were saddled, and with the native in their midst the whole party moved down in the direction of the bush.