"What accident?" demanded the Colonel.
"When Sibenga's people chased Tiny and me," explained Sinclair. "Somehow the amulet worked round over my shoulder. A nigger flung a throwing assegai, and the thing struck the swastika. Yes, it cut the skin a bit, but not much."
"You ought to have told me at once," said Colonel Narfield. "Even a slight superficial cut like that might have proved dangerous or, perhaps, fatal. Frequently these throwing-assegais are made of copper or a soft alloy, so that they bend on impact with a hard substance, and cannot be returned with interest by the person at whom they are thrown, and as you know, a wound inflicted with a copper weapon is apt to be poisonous. What is your impression of this part of the country, Van der Wyck?"
"It is totally different to the veldt," replied the farmer. "There ought to be good maize crops raised on the level ground, but the mountains .... To men like myself they appear stupendous and magnificent, but they are worthless from a farmer's point of view. Several of my countrymen have trekked here and taken up land from the Government. You have plenty of springbok, I see."
"Are you fond of shooting?" asked Tiny.
The old man's eyes glistened.
"I am not yet past that," he replied. "In my younger days, before the big game was driven northward, I have shot both lions and elephants in the Transvaal and Bechuanaland."
"We may be able to give you some big-game shooting before you go," remarked Colonel Narfield.
Before Van der Wyck could reply, there came a knock at the door and Blue Fly appeared.
"Sibenga mans, dey come make palaver one time, sah," he reported.