The younger one answered good-temperedly:
“He said that the White Induna was on the Maconchwa, near the first water that came out of the white rock.”
“Maconchwa!” snarled the leader, “why, it’s twenty miles long! The whole damned range is Maconchwa. Any idiot might be expected to know that.”
“Yes, that’s why I didn’t offer to explain,” said the younger one.
The thrust passed unnoticed, and while a general indaba was going on the last speaker moved to the same spot from which the leader had viewed the country.
He knew the Kaffir and his language and his habits, and he could read the face of the country as well as the niggers themselves, so they heeded him when he spoke, although he was the youngest member of the party, and when a few minutes later, he cut into the conversation with the remark that “there was a cattle kraal near by and they had better go on there and ask the way,” there was a general chorus of “Where?” and an incredulous “Darned if I can see it!” from the leader.
The youngster replied again:
“Nor can I, but it’s there all the same.”
“How do you know?”
“Look,” he said, pointing to a slope about a mile distant.