queer. What is
it?"

"One of the honden," answered Willem.

"Where?"

This question neither for a moment could answer, until Groot Willem
observed one of the pits from the edge of which the dogs appeared to
have retreated.

"Yonder's a pit-trap!" he exclaimed, "and I believe there's a dog has
got into it. Well, I shall give it a shot, and put the creature out of
its misery."

"Do so," replied Hendrik. "I hate the creatures as much as any other
noxious vermin, but it would be cruel to let one starve to death in that
way. Kill it."

Willem rode up to the pit and dismounted. Neither of them, as yet,
spoke loud enough to be heard in the pits, and the two men down below
were at this time silent, the dog alone continuing its cries of agony.

The only thing Willem saw on gazing down the hole was the wild hound
still hanging on the stake; and taking aim at one of its eyes he fired.

The last spark of life was knocked out of the suffering animal; but the
report of the great gun was instantly followed by two yells more hideous
than were ever uttered by "wild honden."

They were the screams of two frightened Africans,--each frightened to
think that the next bullet would be for him.

"Arend!" exclaimed Willem, anxious about his brother, and thinking only
of him. "Arend! is it you?"

"No, Baas Willem," answered the Kaffir. "It is Congo."

Through the opening, Willem reached down the butt-end of his long roer,
while firmly clasping it by the barrel.

The Kaffir took hold with both hands, and, by the strong arms of Groot
Willem, was instantly extricated from his subterranean prison.

Swartboy was next hauled out, and the two mud-bedaubed individuals stood
gazing at one another, each highly delighted at the rueful appearance
presented by his rival.

Slowly the fire of anger, that seemed to have all the while been burning
in the Kaffir's eyes, became extinguished, and broad smile broke like
the light of day over his stoical countenance.

He had been released at length, and was now convinced that no one was to
blame for his protracted imprisonment.

Swartboy had been punished for his ill-timed mirth, and Congo was
willing to forget and forgive.

"But where is Arend?" asked Willem, who could not forget, even while
amused by the ludicrous aspect of the two Africans, that his brother was
missing.

"Don't know, Baas Willem," answered Congo. "I been long time here."

"But when did you see him last?" inquired