"By St. Andrew! these things happen to no one but me," he cried, in a tone so comical that any one but the immovable Mokoum would have laughed outright. But Mokoum did not even smile. His compressed lips and contracted brow showed him to be utterly bewildered. With his arms crossed, he looked quickly right and left.
Suddenly he caught sight of a little red leather bag, ornamented with arabesques, on the ground, which he picked up and examined carefully.
"What's that?" asked Sir John.
"A Makololo's pouch," replied Mokoum.
"How did it get there?"
"The owner let it fall as he fled."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," said Mokoum, clenching his fists, "that the Makololo was in the oryx skin, and you have missed him."
Sir John had not time to express his astonishment, when Mokoum, observing a movement in the distance, with all speed seized his gun and fired.