Ned waited patiently for about two hours in the darkness, when, just as he was beginning to think there would be no answer that night, Cocoeni touched him, and whispered softly in his ear—
“Baas, some one outside creeping gently.”
The keen ears of the savage had heard what Ned could not.
A few moments afterwards something heavy dropped upon his head, and fell with a muffled thud on the clay floor. He stooped to lift it, and to his delight felt the head of a small pickaxe wrapped in flannel. As he was unrolling it, another article came through the slit, and this he found to be the handle.
His friends had understood his signal, and this was their reply. He hugged handle and head in his arms with an ecstasy of delight. Now, at last, freedom was within sight.
It was too late, however, to do anything this morning. In another hour dawn would be upon them. They must defer operations for another night, and hide the treasure.
He explained what he had received to Cocoeni, who woke his friends to tell them, while Ned did the same with Fred and Clarence. A deep grunt of joy spoke the Kaffirs’ feelings, while our heroes fairly danced with pleasure.
To dig a small hole in the corner was the work of the next half-hour, after which they placed the articles side by side and covered them with the clay, which they pressed down, and moistening the top from their water-jug, they smoothed it as carefully over as they could in the dark.
One of the Kaffirs lay down on the damp clay and dried it with his body, while the others crawled about and picked up every portion of loose clay, which they swallowed as they found them.
Before the first streak of dawn crept in the floor was as clear of débris as it had been before, and the part over the pickaxe completely caked and dry.