“Trade—tradesman—trading—trade—”
“’Dition,” suggested Dean.
“Yes, that’s it—all a tradition. I could only think of hunting a will-o’-the-wisp.”
“I don’t think so,” said the doctor. “The captain said some of the hunting parties had seen the great stones in the distance.”
“And he said too that they might have been kopjes. And I don’t believe that those who came hunting ever ran against these trees, or saw these little pigmy chaps, or else they would have talked about it.”
“Similar people were seen by some of our travellers, but that was farther north and more central.”
“But I don’t see why we should be in such a hurry to get on. We are very comfortable here,” said Mark.
“Why do you say that?” said the doctor, looking at the boy searchingly. “You have some reason for it?”
“Well,” said Mark hesitating, “I should like to see more of these little people. They amuse me. They are not much bigger than children, and they are such solemn, stolid little chaps. I don’t believe any of them ever had a good laugh in their lives.”
“That’s because they never see any sunshine,” said Dean sententiously. “I believe they just have a run outside the forest to stick an arrow or two into the springboks, and then run into the shade again. It’s the sun makes one want to laugh, and I should be just as serious if I always lived under those trees.”