“They have seen Hans,” said Stephen.
“I think not,” I answered, “for if so there would have been more than one shot. Either it was an accident or they were murdering a slave.”
After this nothing more happened for a long while, till at length Hans seemed to rise out of the ground in front of me, and behind him I saw the figures of the Mazitu and the other man.
“Tell your story,” I said.
“Baas, it is this. Between us we have learned everything. The Arabs know all about you and what men you have. Hassan has sent them orders to kill you. It is well that you did not go to visit them, for certainly you would have been murdered. We crept near and overheard their talk. They purpose to attack us at dawn to-morrow morning unless we leave this place before, which they will know of as we are being watched.”
“And if so, what then?” I asked.
“Then, Baas, they will attack as we are making up the caravan, or immediately afterwards as we begin to march.”
“Indeed. Anything more, Hans?”
“Yes, Baas. These two men crept among the slaves and spoke with them. They are very sad, those slaves, and many of them have died of heart-pain because they have been taken from their homes and do not know where they are going. I saw one die just now; a young woman. She was talking to another woman and seemed quite well, only tired, till suddenly she said in a loud voice, ‘I am going to die, that I may come back as a spirit and bewitch these devils till they are spirits too.’ Then she called upon the fetish of her tribe, put her hands to her breast and fell down dead. At least,” added Hans, spitting reflectively, “she did not fall quite down because the slave-stick held her head off the ground. The Arabs were very angry, both because she had cursed them and was dead. One of them came and kicked her body and afterwards shot her little boy who was sick, because the mother had cursed them. But fortunately he did not see us, because we were in the dark far from the fire.”
“Anything more, Hans?”