Mr. Blakeney and Guy moved forward to where Tom stood, and saw instantly that other footprints were mingled with those of the great apes. Mr. Blakeney stooped, and examined critically the smooth sand and the whole tracery of footprints displayed so clearly.
"It's a strange thing," he said, half to himself; "but one could almost swear that here was the spoor of a child."
He glanced sharply at Poeskop, who had remained silent, but was now regarding him with an odd smile on his yellow face.
"Yes," said the little Bushman, in response to his master's look; "that is the spoor of a child--a baboon boy!"
"A baboon boy, Poeskop?" reiterated Mr. Blakeney. "What do you mean?"
"Well, baas," answered Poeskop, "I mean this. We Bushmen, and other natives of this country, know that sometimes the baboons carry off a child and bring it up with them, and the creature lives with them and grows wild and picks up their habits. It is not often that it happens, but it does sometimes. There is a baboon boy here, among these hills--that is certain. Here, you see, is his spoor, as plain as daylight. There are his footmarks, and there the prints of his fingers. He runs on all fours, just like a baviaan."
"It seems a queer yarn," said Mr. Blakeney, looking at the spoor musingly, "and I never heard of such a thing before. Can it be true? What becomes of the poor thing?"
"Well, baas," answered Poeskop, "I don't think they often grow up. The life is too hard for them. But my father once told me that he knew of a wild man who lived among the baboons, far away yonder"--the Bushman pointed north-east--"and was called the King of the Baboons. He was killed by a native tribe, who began to be afraid of him and the apes he lived with."
"A strange story, indeed," said Mr. Blakeney. "Well, we can't let this poor wretch stay with these baboons. We must hunt them up and try to get hold of him."
"It will be a tough job, baas," said Poeskop; "but we will try."