“Our late captives,” said that philosopher, “have made the most of a good opportunity for escaping. It was, no doubt, done under an instinct; and the same instinct will be likely to guide them back toward their native land. If we go in search of them, let the search be made in the direction from whence they came.”
“Mine poys,” broke in the boer, “dare ish no use lookin’ if they goed that way. Dey will not wait fast enough for anypoddy to catch up to ’em.”
Hendrik and Arend expressed themselves of the same opinion.
“Congo, you black scoundrel!” exclaimed Willem, “where are our giraffes? Which way shall we look for them?”
In answer to this question the bewildered Kaffir could only shake his aching head.
Willem had great faith in Congo’s instinct, and was not satisfied with the limited information received from him.
“Do you think, Congo, we had better follow the spoor we made in coming here?” he asked.
Again the Kaffir shook his head.
“You sooty idiot!” exclaimed the distracted questioner, “answer me in some other way. No more wabbling of your head, or I’ll break it for you.”
“I don’t think at all now, baas Willem,” said Congo. “My head feel too big for the question you put ’um.”