His explanation of the reason why they were not killed immediately showed him to be so well acquainted with the manners and customs of the people into whose hands they had fallen, that, after its relation, Willem and Hendrik could no longer doubt the truth of his assertions.
He said that white men were never put to death within sight of the kraal, lest the affair might be talked of by the women and children in the presence of other white men who might pass through the country. Although all might be well aware of their fate, but few would witness their execution. They would be led away some night, two or three miles from the village and then put to death. Their executioners would return to the kraal with the story that they had been sent back to their own country.
The chief, Congo believed, was not yet ready to witness their execution, being too well pleased with his late acquired property to think of any other business for the present.
Willem and Hendrik, after all that had been told them, were not prepared to give up every hope. Some chance to escape might offer, though it should be with bare life; for they could not expect to take with them their horses and guns.
As evening came on, the watch over the prisoners seemed less strictly kept than during the earlier hours of the day. But in vain they strove to rend the thongs that bound them, or slip from their embrace. They had been too securely tied, most likely by one whose experience, alas! had been but too well perfected in the enslavement of his own unhappy countrymen.
During the evening, an individual was observed approaching. Stepping up to where Groot Willem was bound, he commenced an earnest scrutiny of his features.
Willem fancied that the man had a familiar look, and, examining him attentively, he recognised no less a personage than the banished Sindo, the individual whom he had saved from the wrath of Macora. Here was a sudden transition from despair to hope. Surely the would-be chief could not be ungrateful! Perhaps he would intercede in their behalf! This was but his duty.
Willem strove to make him understand that he was recognised, hoping the knowledge of that would stimulate him to exert himself on their behalf. The attempt wholly failed. With a scornful expression upon his features, the man moved away.
“That’s Sindo,” muttered Willem to his fellow-prisoners. “He appears at home among them. Will he not assist us?”
“Yaas, that is Sindo,” said Congo, “but he no help you.”