“No; I left it on the left. I wanted to find my way across country. All that forest part is splendid, but rough.”
“Were you alone?”
“Yes, except when I got a native as guide for what looked like some of the most difficult parts.”
Verna’s pretty lips emitted a whistle, as she looked at him in astonishment.
“You did rather a risky thing,” she said. “The people down there are none too well affected, and it’s hardly safe in these days for a solitary white man in some parts of the country. And the Zulus are not what they used to be. But how did you manage about talking?”
“Oh, I had picked up an ordinary word or two, and the potent sign of a half-crown piece did the rest. It was quite interesting as an experience, really.”
Verna still looked at him astonished; then she remembered he had said something about South America; still, his undertaking was at that time, as she had said, a risky thing. He, remembering one experience, at any rate, thought she was very likely right.
“Well, you mustn’t take any risks when you are with us,” she said.
“Why? Are the people your way disaffected, too?”
“It isn’t so much that, but you might get lost wandering about by yourself. The forest country is flatter, and there are no landmarks, at any rate, that would be of any use to a stranger.”