“Will you take a suggestion?” asked Hume.
“Hum,” she said, “I presume you wish me to lengthen the dress?”
“Heaven forbid! No; but I think it would be well if you placed a band of leather round the skirt.”
“Leather; good gracious, why?”
“To prevent the thorns from ripping the dress into rags. The ‘wacht-en-beetje’ thorn will be always calling you to ‘wait a bit.’ Now, come and preside at our first meal in the veld.”
When they were half through, the boy returned to the fire, sat down with his feet to it, and his hands spread out to keep the heat from his face.
Hume rose and touched him on his shoulder.
“Where have you been?”
The boy shrugged his shoulders, and said in Dutch to his companion: “What says the Englishman?”
Hitherto, Hume had not spoken in Dutch, and the Kaffirs were off their guard.