“Baas,” he said in a low voice. “Baas,” he repeated.
“Well?” said Hume sharply.
“De ossa is gone.”
“What!” shouted Hume, glad for some excuse to give vent to the anger and bitter disappointment that filled him.
“They were stampeded by lions,” said Webster.
“Didn’t I tell you to have them properly tied?”
“Yoh, my baas! But the rheims; someone cut them in the night. Come, see!”
“Good heavens! Can this be true?”
They ran to the trek-tow, and there saw that the tough rheims which secured each ox to the chain had been severed by a sharp instrument.
Hume laughed bitterly.