“From them. Ha! That is a lie, Umlungu. Give us the dog, or we will take him and everything you have got besides.”
“I think not,” I said. “But as I cannot talk with a number at once, I must talk with one. Where is that one?”
The clamour redoubled but of it I took no notice. I filled my pipe deliberately, and handed the pouch to Falkner.
“What are they saying?” he asked. I told him.
“Well, we ain’t going to give up the dog,” he said. “I’ll see them damned first,” and in his excitement he appended a great deal more that it is not expedient to reproduce.
“I’m with you there,” I said. “And now,” relapsing into the vernacular, as a ringed man came forward—he was an evil-looking rascal, and I recognised him as having been among those who had troubled us before. “And now to begin with—who claims him?”
“Udolfu.”
“Udolfu? Well how long has he had him, and where did he get him?”
“That is nothing to you, Umlungu. He is Udolfu’s dog, and we are come for him. So give him to us.”
“Do you think you could take him yourselves and alive?” I said banteringly, for the savage and frenzied barks of Arlo within the waggon pretty well drowned our talk.