Great and terrible was the hubbub which prevailed in the temporary kraal of the Gaika chief as soon as it became known that the white prisoner had disappeared. And the circumstances which led to this discovery were as follows.
Obedient to the instructions of his uncle, Tambusa had not stirred from the hut which had constituted Claverton’s prison-house, so as to allow the two to get clear off without running the risk of exciting alarm. At length, towards morning, the young Kafir began to think he might fairly take steps to ensure his own safety. Accordingly he stole forth from the hut—not quickly, and of set purpose, but with apparent reluctance and rubbing his eyes as if he had just woke up—this in case any prying glance should be watching his movements. All was still, though there was just a sign of the coming dawn discernible in the east, and with his blanket over his shoulder and his assegais in his hand, Tambusa walked swiftly through the group of huts in the direction of the bush, when, as ill-luck would have it, he was hailed, and by one of the men who had been mounting guard over the prisoner the night before.
“Where are you going to?” asked this man.
“Oh, I shall come back in a moment.”
“I’ll just go and look at the prisoner till you do, then,” was the reply. “He oughtn’t to be left in the charge of only one man.”
“No, don’t do that,” promptly rejoined Tambusa, whose heart sank within him. “Xuvani is there, and he’ll be very angry with me. He doesn’t know I’ve gone out.”
“Never mind. He won’t hurt you,” said the other. “I’ll tell him I met you,” and he walked straight towards the hut. Could it be that his suspicions were aroused? Was there something in Tambusa’s mien that betrayed him? Anyhow, the latter’s safety now would depend on the use he could make of the very brief start allowed him by the time his interlocutor would take to reach the hut—that, and no more.
Opening the door, the man bent down and looked in.
“Xuvani!” he called.