“Is it clean?” I asked.
“Never was she cleaner since she was born out of the fire, baas. Also, the powder has been sifted and set to dry in the sun with the caps, and the bullets have been trued to the barrel, so that there may be no accidents when it comes to the shooting. If you miss the aasvogels, baas, it will not be the fault of Intombi or of the powder and the bullets; it will be your own fault.”
“That’s comforting,” I answered. “Well, come on, I want to go to the Death-hill yonder.”
“Why, baas, before the time?” asked the Hottentot, shrinking back a little. “It is no place to visit till one is obliged. These Zulus say that ghosts sit there even in the daylight, haunting the rocks where they were made ghosts.”
“Vultures sit or fly there also, Hans; and I would see how they fly, that I may know when and where to shoot at them.”
“That is right, baas,” said the clever Hottentot. “This is not like firing at geese in the Groote Kloof. The geese go straight, like an assegai to its mark. But the aasvogels wheel round and round, always on the turn; it is easy to miss a bird that is turning, baas.”
“Very easy. Come on.”
Just as we were starting Vrouw Prinsloo appeared from behind the other wagon, and with her Marie, who, I noticed, was very pale and whose beautiful eyes were red, as though with weeping.
The vrouw asked me where we were going. I told her. After considering a little, she said that was a good thought of mine, as it was always well to study the ground before a battle.
I nodded, and led Marie aside behind some thorn trees that grew near.