An hour of further travelling and the bush line would draw to an end in favour of more open country above. Just before reaching this, however, a sound reached him. It was the quick whinny of a horse, the shaking of the saddle-flaps, then a neigh. Of course, to one of Greenoak’s rapid powers of deduction this meant a riderless horse. What if it was his—what if it had broken away, while the savages were occupied with their prisoner? A few more minutes and he came in sight of the animal, and—it was his.
But, holding the end of the bridle-rein, was a man, a native—a thick-set, ugly, scrabbly bearded savage, and armed. Greenoak’s gun was up in a moment, covering the fellow.
But somehow or other, it did not seem to produce the effect he had expected. The ugly face split into a white stripe of grin, and a voice said in excellent English—
“Not shoot, Mr Greenoak. I John Voss.”
Well might Greenoak start. This, then, was the fellow who had been stealthily following him. The make-up was perfect. It happened that normally John Voss was a singularly neat and smart-looking native, with an intelligent face and, for a native, a very respectable beard, of which he was not a little proud. The sacrifice of this latter alone, in order to transform himself into an evil-looking, squalid savage, argued a whole-hearted zeal deserving of recognition, and he had certainly succeeded, for himself, to a dangerous degree at that moment.
“Well, John, you’ve had a narrow escape,” said Greenoak. “But that I was afraid the horse would have schreked at the shot and cleared, you’d have been down with a bullet through you at this moment, I believe. Now let’s hear all about it.”
The other told him—how he had followed Mantisa, and witnessed his capture; how in the excitement of that event he had mingled with the Kafirs in the darkness, and had ridden away upon the horse when their attention was more fully occupied, intending to wait for its owner at the point where he judged the latter would reappear. Then Greenoak told him of the crossing from Gcalekaland, and the barbarous vengeance which had been taken upon poor Mantisa. It happened that John Voss had not been into the location at all, so had been powerless to warn either of the ambush laid, for the simple reason that he knew nothing of it.
And as they travelled, these two laid their plans as to how best warn the neighbourhood.