"Be that as it may, master," said the sergeant stolidly, "she is a witch, for she has talked with my men and done many wonderful things—such as causing them to behold their children and far-away scenes."
"Have I an escort of babies?" asked Sanders despairingly. "I wish," he went on, with quiet savageness, "I had chosen Kroomen or Bushmen"—the sergeant winced—"or the mad people of the Isisi River, before I took a half-company of the King's Houssas."
The sergeant gulped down the insult, saying nothing.
"Bring the woman to me," said Sanders. He scrambled into his clothing, and lit his tent lantern.
After a while he heard the pattering of bare feet, and the girl came into his tent, and regarded him quietly.
"M'Lino," said Sanders, "I told you that you were not to speak with my men."
"Lord," she said, "they spoke with me first."
"Is this true?"
The sergeant at the tent door nodded. "Tembeli, the son of Sekambano, spoke with her, thus disobeying orders, and the other men followed," he said.
"Bushmen by gad!" fumed Sanders. "You will take Tembeli, the son of Sekambano, tie him to a tree, and give him twenty lashes."