From where he now stood he could see the Orange River less than a mile away. It took little reflection to show him that the river at this point reached the other toe of the horseshoe to which he was going.
He could see that from the base of the cliff the mountain sloped gently to the river bank, and he could also see a spot where undoubtedly the former police expedition had landed.
It was a meadow on which not a single tree grew. This meadow was not broad but it extended inland for something like half a mile.
What aroused Trim’s interest most, however, was not the meadow which afforded such a convenient place for landing but two specks floating down the river.
A glance through his glass showed him that they were the rafts upon which he and his party had been sailing.
“Now,” he thought, “if that doesn’t bring the enemy from under cover I shan’t know where to find them.”
He turned his glass to the edges of the meadow, moving it slowly so as to inspect its entire length from the river bank to where it ended in the forest again.
He had not long to look before he saw something that satisfied him greatly. Several men were coming out from the edge of the forest and crossing the meadow toward the river.
Trim could see that their attention had been taken by the empty rafts. There was no doubt that they had been in hiding at the meadow’s edge waiting for the white travelers to land from their rafts at that convenient point.
Seeing the rafts floating down empty they had come from under their cover as Trim had hoped that they would, and were approaching the river doubtless wondering what had become of the travelers.