“Well, now I shall be off,” he said. “I leave it to you, Sharkey. Here’s something to go on with,” and there was a chink as of gold as he passed something into the mulatto’s hand, who clutched it greedily. “We understand each other. Now, the sooner you join your regiment the better,” he added, with a harsh laugh. “Good-bye. Are you going to stay here to-night?”
“Why, yes, Cap’n; it’s warm and dry.”
“Ha, ha! Supposing Claverton should want to off-saddle here. That would be a joke—eh?”
“He’s better employed, that devil,” replied the Cuban mulatto, and he chuckled to himself as the other passed out, frowning. And the listener heard the sound of footsteps, and then the tread of a horse receding in the distance. The man was evidently riding away up the kloof.
Left to himself Sharkey got up, fastened the cranky door, and threw some more wood on the fire. Then he took out his pipe, filled and lighted it, and drawing his blanket around him, lay down, prepared to make himself thoroughly comfortable. He grunted once or twice as his pipe went out, and then with a muttered imprecation threw it down, and, pulling the blanket over his head, began to snore. A few moments more, and the watcher arose and softly stole away into the bush, for he was revolving a merciless and coldblooded plan.
“Sam!”
“Inkos?”
“Tie the horses up and come with me. You remember the scoundrel we enlisted yesterday?”
“Yeh bo ’Nkos.”
“Well, he is in that place, and you and I are going to take him. Directly I kick down the door, you will follow on my heels and collar him. Now come.”