The chief asked a question of his messenger.
"Heaps of them," he said to Ronald, for the natives are incapable of counting beyond very low figures. "Too many; no chance to attack them; must follow behind. They show us the way."
"But how do we know whereabouts they will come out of the wood, Kreta? It's miles long; while we are watching at one place, they may be off in another."
"That's so, incos; no use to watch the wood. We must go on to the Great Fish River. Only two places where they can ford it—Double Drift and Cornetjies Drift, one hour's walk apart. Put half one place, half the other; then when they pass, follow after and send messengers to fetch up others."
"That will do very well, chief; that's a capital idea of yours. You are sure that there's no other way they can go?"
"Heaps of ways," the chief said, "but those shortest ways—sure to go short ways, so as to pass over ground quickly."
"What are they going back for?"
"No bullock in bush, incos, eaten up all the things round, want to go home to kraals; besides hear that many white soldiers come over sea to go to Amatolas to fight."
"How far is it to these fords?"
"Three hours' march. We start now. Kaffirs set out soon. Get on horse again."