"What makes you think that, Jim?"
"Two days ago, Jim saw dem talking wid black fellow, half a mile from the station. Not know Jim saw dem. Secret sort of talk. Why dey never find de tracks before black fellows and bush rangers always get away? Jim tink those fellows no good."
Reuben himself had often thought it singular that such continued bad luck should have attended the efforts of his predecessor to hunt down the bush rangers, but the thought that they had been put off their scent by the trackers had not occurred to him. He had the greatest faith in Jim's sagacity and, now that the idea was presented to him, it seemed plausible enough.
"Very good, Jim, you keep your eye on those fellows. I will do the same. We shall soon find out if they are up to any tricks."
Jim had been running by his master's stirrup, while this conversation had been going on; and he now dropped into his usual place at the rear of the party. For some miles the trail was followed at a hand gallop, for the grass was several inches in height, and the trail could be followed as easily as a road. The country then began to change. The ground was poorer and more arid, and clumps of low brush grew here and there. Still, there was no check in the speed. The marks made by the frightened flock were plain enough, even to the horsemen; and bits of wool, left behind on the bushes, afforded an unmistakable testimony to their passage.
"They were not going so fast, here," Mr. Blount said, after dismounting and examining. "The footprints do not go in pairs, as they did at first. The flock has broken into a trot. Ah! There is the first, ahead."
In a hundred yards they came upon the skin and head of a sheep. Nothing else remained. Unable to keep up with the flock, it had been speared, cut up, and eaten raw by the blacks. In the next mile they came upon the remains of two more; then the track widened out, and the footprints were scattered and confused. The horses were reined up, and Jim and the trackers examined the ground. Jim returned in a minute or two.
"Black fellows give em a rest here. Could no go any furder. Lie down and pant."
One of the trackers then came up.
"They stop here, captain, five six hours till moon rise. Make fire, kill sheep, and have feast."