“Those two sugar-loaf kopjes that lie right out yonder,” said Buck, giving his head a wag to indicate the clumps of rock that he alluded to.
“But those look like the kopjes that we could see from the big wall beyond the waggons.”
“That’s right, sir,” said Buck. “They were a good way off, because the air is so clear here. But that’s the way we are going, and sooner or later we shall be there.”
“What is it? Feel faint?” said Dean, for his cousin shuddered.
“No,” was the half whispered reply. “I can’t bear to think of it. It means so much, Dean.”
“Then don’t think,” said Dean. “What’s the good. What’s gone by can’t be altered now.”
“You don’t understand me,” said Mark passionately. “The past is bad enough. It is what we have to face when we get there.”
“You mean—” began Dean sadly, and then he stopped.
Mark was gazing at him wildly, and Dean seemed to read now fully what his cousin meant.
“Oh, don’t think that,” he said at last, in a choking voice. “These blacks are savage enough, but as Buck said, if they meant to kill us they would have speared us before now.”