I stared at him; we all stared at him.
“What do you mean, Spotted Snake?” asked Mavovo.
“What do you mean, child of a hundred idiots? Is this a time to jest? Is not one joker enough among us?” I asked, and looked at Stephen.
“Mean, Baas? Don’t you know that I have the little rifle with me, that which is called Intombi, that with which you shot the vultures at Dingaan’s kraal? I never told you because I was sure you knew; also because if you didn’t know it was better that you should not know, for if you had known, those Pongo skellums (that is, vicious ones) might have come to know also. And if they had known——”
“Mad!” interrupted Brother John, tapping his forehead, “quite mad, poor fellow! Well, in these depressing circumstances it is not wonderful.”
I inspected Hans again, for I agreed with John. Yet he did not look mad, only rather more cunning than usual.
“Hans,” I said, “tell us where this rifle is, or I will knock you down and Mavovo shall flog you.”
“Where, Baas! Why, cannot you see it when it is before your eyes?”
“You are right, John,” I said, “he’s off it”; but Stephen sprang at Hans and began to shake him.
“Leave go, Baas,” he said, “or you may hurt the rifle.”