“One.”
Jem sighed.
“I doubt it is a bad job, Jacky,” said he.
“Follow—not too close,” was the low reply.
And the panther became a serpent, so smooth and undulating were the motions with which he glided upon the track he had now discovered.
Jem, well aware that he could not move noiselessly like the savage, obeyed him and crept after at some distance.
The savage had followed the man's footsteps about half a mile, and the white man the savage, when suddenly both were diverted from their purpose. Kalingalunga stood still and beckoned Jem. Jem ran to him, and found him standing snuffing the air with his great broad nostrils, like a stag.
“What is it?”
“White fellow burn wambiloa wood.”
“How d'ye know? how d'ye know?”