“It’s of no use,” he said to himself, at last, “I—can’t—go—to sleep, and it’s only waste of time.”
Creeping cautiously out, he let himself drop to the earth, and then after standing listening for a few minutes to the breathing of the cattle and watching the dancing flames of the fire that was regularly kept up, he cautiously approached the ponies, speaking softly to them so that they might not be scared by the approach of a dark figure to the spot where they were tethered.
First one and then another whinnied softly and stretched out its muzzle to receive his caress.
“I do like horses,” he said to himself. “When once they know you they are as friendly as dogs. But you ought to have heard me, Master Dean. I think if I had had the watch I should have known if anyone had crept out of the waggon and come and spoken to the horses. I’ll tell him so.”
The boy went cautiously on past the first waggon, then by the kraal, looking eagerly before him the while but making out nothing.
“Taking a bit of a round, I suppose. The other side of the fire, perhaps,” he said to himself.
Mark went slowly and silently on, pausing once to note that the bright planet, which seemed to grow larger and larger, was just dipping down behind the highest kopje near, and then he listened to a distant barking sound which he knew must proceed from a baboon prowling about, possibly on the watch for the approach of one of its greatest enemies—a leopard.
“Everything seems to have its enemy,” thought the boy, “and the blacks are ours; but I don’t think they will come near us any—”
Mark stopped short, a feeling of rage and bitterness running through him, for as he was walking slowly on, cautiously so as not to startle his cousin, he felt ready to choke with indignant rage.
“Oh, I wouldn’t have thought he could have been so untrustworthy,” he said to himself, for there, just before him, seated upon one of the many loose stones, his chin upon his breast, was his cousin, sleeping profoundly.