Each in turn took it, turned it over and over with a blank look.
“Well, I’m hanged,” muttered Webster, under his breath. “That fellow must have placed that paper in the tube after I left the cave, and probably watched me the whole time, yet I never caught a glimpse of him.”
“He is some half-witted native,” said Hume, after a long pause.
“You forget the cry, after your disappearance. That was the voice of a white man who knew you or your uncle, and had learnt the object of our journey.”
“True, I had forgotten that. Still, one of my uncle’s men, escaping from the attack made upon his camp, may have taken up his home in the cave, and have lost his mind in the solitude. Such a man might have learnt about the Golden Rock, and he would have picked up a few words of English.”
They now heard the lowing of oxen, and presently Klaas appeared with the runaways. Hume quickly counted fifteen.
“Well, Klaas, did you search far?”
The Gaika stretched his naked arm out and swept it round. “They stood all about, some in one place, some in others, but I whistled to them, and they were joyful to see a man. Three I could not find, but the body of one.”
“You have done well, Klaas. What are these things?” and Hume handed over the bag and contents.
“Yoh! Kaffir man made these, but a white man uses them.”