“What do you mean?” I asked, suspecting that he was still drunk.
“I mean, Baas, that the Dweller-in-the-cave is fast asleep.”
“How do you know that, Hans?”
“Because I am the nurse who put him to sleep, Baas, though he kicked and cried a great deal. He is asleep; he will wake no more. Baas, I have killed the Father of Serpents.”
“Hans,” I said, “now I am sure that you are still drunk, although you do not show it outside.”
“Hans,” added Ragnall, to whom I had translated as much of this as he did not understand, “it is too early in the day to tell good stories. How could you possibly have killed that serpent without a gun—for you took none with you—or with it either for that matter?”
“Will the Baases come and take a walk through the cave?” asked Hans with a snigger.
“Not till I am quite sure that you are sober,” I replied; then, remembering certain other events in this worthy’s career, added; “Hans, if you do not tell us the story at once I will beat you.”
“There isn’t much story, Baas,” replied Hans between long sucks at his pipe, which had nearly gone out, “because the thing was so easy. The Baas is very clever and so is the Lord Baas, why then can they never see the stones that lie under their noses? It is because their eyes are always fixed upon the mountains between this world and the next. But the poor Hottentot, who looks at the ground to be sure that he does not stumble, ah! he sees the stones. Now, Baas, did you not hear that man in a night shirt with his head shaved say that those goats were food for One who dwelt in the mountain?”
“I did. What of it, Hans?”