Webster, who now grasped the situation, lifted the boy’s foot, which was small, though broad at the root of the toes, took the measurement, then passed the string over the spoor on the dust.
“It is his. What does it mean?”
“It means that he has some understanding with those two men, and that he left the waggon to meet them here.”
He then sent the boy for the oxen with orders to bring them in at once, and returned with the others to the waggon to prepare for the next trek, the night trek and the longest, since the oxen worked better than in the heat of the sun.
The waggon driver, Klaas, was still seated at the fire when they got back, and looked at them with a smile, which scarcely succeeded in disguising his anxiety.
“Klaas, get ready to inspan.”
“Inspan, baas, and the night is near by! Better stay here, baas, till sun up. Plenty better stay.”
“It will be better for you to do what I tell you. Here come the oxen; now, look alive!”
Klaas reached out for a coal, cradled it in the palm of his hand, and then deftly fixed it in the bowl of his long native pipe. He then rose and straightened out the trek-tow, the long chain with the eight yokes.
The eighteen oxen were driven up and formed up in a line on the left, when the loops of the rheims were passed over the wide horns, and the couples, in their proper order, pulled over to the other side, when they faced round, each couple to its own yoke. The pole was then fixed on over the necks, the throat-straps being passed round from “skei” notch to “skei” notch. When all were yoked the oxen were standing on the right, sideways, and at the word “Hambaka”—trek—the left ox of each couple had to bear the scraping of the chain as it was pulled over his back.