“My dear boy, haven’t you had enough of that particular hunt?” asked his father, looking at his bruised face.
“It’s really harmless,” Jim explained. “We’ve been asking the manager; he says the place is quite near the city, and any rickshaw fellow knows it—we can choose one sufficiently ornamental to be respectable this time. And it’s an interesting place—he says Norah ought to see it.”
“Oh—can I go? Joyful!” said Norah, delightedly.
“Well, if it’s really all right, we’ll tackle it,” said Mr. Linton. “The doctor said it was a place to visit, I remember. We’ll send off our luggage to the ship at once, and then we’ll have a free hand.”
A spectacular figure awaited them in the road when they came out a little later, ready for exploration.
“I told you that gentleman had attached himself to the family,” said Norah, laughing. “Look—he’s just beaming at you, Jim!”
The Zulu “boy” who had befriended them the day before stood at attention, his broad, black face lit from ear to ear by a smile of welcome. His scarlet and white adornments were spic-and-span, and his headgear even more glorious than before.
“Gen’lemen allright?” he queried, as the boys approached. He cast a keen eye on their still visible signs of battle.
Jim nodded.
“Thanks to you for bringing us home, my friend, we are,” he said. “You know the native market?”