"However, if the worst comes to the worst, he can only lead them to the hut; and they won't find much worth taking, there. When we once get out to the blacks, we can snap our fingers at them."
It was, indeed, about midnight when Jim had stolen away. He was still faint and giddy, and his face was terribly burned by the blow which had been dealt him; but when once fairly away from the bush rangers, he set out in the direction in which he knew the Donalds' station lay; and never halted until he arrived there, on the following evening, utterly wearied and worn out, for he had eaten nothing on the previous day.
"Then they have got away after all, Jim," Reuben said, when he had listened patiently to the long narration. "You have done all that was possible, Jim. You have done splendidly, my poor fellow, and although we were just too late to catch the bush rangers, we saved the people here; but it is indeed unfortunate that they should have got off."
"Jim knows where dey hab gone," the black said. "Dey hab gone to de country of Bobitu—I heard dem say de name. Jim know dat country well—he come from der."
Further question showed that Jim had, indeed, belonged to Bobitu's tribe; and had come with a party of his people down to the settlements, where he was taken ill and left to die, but was picked up and nursed by Mr. Hudson.
"And you could take us there?"
Jim nodded.
"Bery long march, massa. Tree days, with horses. Plenty bad people; much fight."
"I don't care how far it is, or how much fighting we have got to do; I am bound to hunt down that fellow, however far he's gone. I suppose there is no trouble about water. If they can go there, we can."
"Four, six water holes," Jim said. "No trouble about dat—trouble from de black fellow."