That was a comfortable thought, too. Piet kept his boys on watch for another hour, but nothing showed, and then they ate quickly, and he disposed them for a search. It was all done in good order and after the approved fashion; as each moved forward, his retreat was covered by another's rifle; and between them they scoured all the broken ground within a couple of miles.
"Well," said Piet at last, when the search was over and they had not found so much as a spoor of a foot, "this is a wonderful thing."
"You are sure it was a man you saw?" asked Klein Piet, doubtfully. "The sun plays tricks with a man's eyes, sometimes."
But Piet was not to be shaken. "As sure," he said, "as I am here. But what kind of man—" he broke off, frowning. "There is nothing for it," he added, "but to go on with the work and be wary."
"Yes, the work." Klein Piet turned to him. "When you came back from the spruit, we had just found a curious thing where we were digging."
"An iron cross," put in young Andries.
"A cross?" repeated the father.
"It is not a cross," said Klein Piet, quickly. "It is—something else. Come and see it, father."
They had been talking together outside their laager, and now they went across to the great pit that the lads and the kafirs had dug to plant the house in. The digging was not yet all done, and where the morning's labor had ended, Klein Piet pointed to the thing of which he had spoken. Only a part of it was uncovered—two curving, spade-ended arms of rust-red iron, and a shaft which stuck out of the earth.
"Is that not a cross, father?" cried Andries. "See, it has arms and——"