"When I saw you with those cattle-dealers in Durban I knew that you were going to be cheated," said Oscar as he and the colonel seated themselves. "I tried to make you understand it, but you told me, in effect, that it was none of my business. One of those men behind us tried to force a most inferior outfit on me, and threatened to prosecute me because I declined to be imposed upon. Did you examine your trek-tow to see if anybody had been fooling with it?"
"No," said the colonel in surprise.
"You ought to have done so. I know that you are a victim of treachery."
"I know that, also. Didn't I tell you that my servants had deserted me, and that my cattle and horses had been allowed to stray away?"
"The men from whom you purchased your outfit are responsible for all that. They intend to keep you here if they possibly can."
"And for what purpose, pray?" asked the colonel, still more astonished.
"They want to force you to sell your goods back to them for a good deal less than you gave for them. I know what I am talking about, for I have heard stories of their villainy told by a dozen different gentlemen who are acquainted with their way of doing business."
Just at that moment, as if to corroborate these words, Barlow approached and laid his hand familiarly on the colonel's shoulder.
The surprised Englishman quickly brought his eyeglass to a focus and stared up at him as if he meant to annihilate him by his angry glances.
"Fellow!" he vociferated, promptly shaking off the cattle-dealer's hand.