“Maybe,” said Mark; “but what was it?”
“Well, I will tell you, sir. It was one of them big monkeys as Buck Denham talks about.”
“I never knew him talk about any.”
“Oh, he has to me, sir. He has seen them over and over again when he has been out with hunting gentlemen. He says they are as big as a good-sized dog, and a bit like one about the head. But they’ve got next to no tail. Go in packs, they do, like dogs, and make a sort of a barking noise. Pretty fierce too, he says they are, and bite like all that. Don’t you think it might be one of them? Buck says they live in the kopjes.”
“But would one be likely to be about here in the dark?”
“There’s no knowing, sir—hanging round our kraal to see if it could pick up a bit of anything to eat. But there, I’ll keep a sharp look out, and if I see anything worth while I’ll fire.”
“Do,” said Mark. “Good-night.”
“Good-night, sir.”
Mark went to his blanket, and forgot all about the incident till after breakfast when he met his relief, who signed to him to follow into the clearing they had made by cutting down and burning the bushes.
“What is it, Dan?”