The man shook his head, and his wild, roving eyes, shifting uneasily like those of an animal, glanced from object to object, dwelling at last upon the rolled-up figure of Klaas. Him, presently, he prodded with the butt of an assegai, and grinned till his white teeth gleamed.
“Stand up, Klaas,” said Hume sternly, and the Gaika, with a sullen look, rose, and gradually raised his eyes from the feet to the dreaded face. Then, like two fierce and strange dogs meeting, they stood fronting each other—the one with a commanding look, the other with lowering frown and quivering nostrils.
The stranger spoke, but the Gaika shook his head in turn.
“What does he say?” asked Hume.
“He speaks strangely, sieur.”
“Is he a witch-doctor?”
“He is not of my people, nor of the Zulus, and his toes turn out.”
“I wonder if this is our hermit?” said Webster.
“Ay, the same thought occurred to me; and the man who could leap over that fence as he did could have no difficulty in knocking me down.”
While they were talking the stranger looked at them furtively.