The Zulu darted a grateful look at Jack, and the latter took his rifle and bullet cartridges, starting off directly after in the way that the boys had been seen to go.
Jack began chatting to the Zulu as they went along, but after a few remarks he noticed that the General was very quiet and reserved, while when he glanced at his countenance it looked so strange that Jack felt startled, and began to think of how awkward his position would be if the Zulu were to prove unfaithful, and turn upon him.
But the next minute he was reassured, and found that it was anxiety upon the General’s part about his boys.
“I am afraid, Boss Jack,” he said hoarsely. “It frightens me to think. They may be killed.”
“Oh, no,” cried Jack hopefully. “They have only gone farther away, and have not had time to return.”
The Zulu shook his head, but he glanced eagerly at the speaker as if to silently ask him if he really felt like that.
“No,” he said softly; “one of them would be back by now, I am afraid.”
Jack tried again, but it was of no avail; and the Zulu having struck the boys’ trail, he had to be left to follow it without interruption, and this he did, all through the heat of that glowing afternoon.
Several times poor Jack felt as if he would faint, but his spirit kept him up, and at last they came upon Chicory, sitting down by a little pool of water with his assegai beside him, bathing his bleeding feet.
The Zulu uttered a low sigh of satisfaction as he saw one of his boys, and Chicory jumped up, and seizing his assegai, ran to meet them.