t the Kaffir must soon
be coming in with the cattle, and he rode off from the house in the hope
of meeting him. Soon a large herd was seen approaching from the plain,
and, riding around it, Willem found Congo in company with two
Hottentots.

While in the presence of his companions, the Kaffir would not speak to
him, but was apparently devoting every thought to the task of directing
the movements of the herd. His old master seemed unworthy of his
notice.

"We have been all wrong in our conjectures," thought Willem: "Congo has
really deserted me. No man could keep up such an appearance as he is
doing. I may go back again."

He was about to turn away, when Congo, observing that both the
Hottentots had gone a few yards ahead, and were busy talking to one
another, muttered in a low tone: "Go back, baas Willem, and wait at you
camp. I come dar to-morrow mornin'."

Willem was not only satisfied, but overjoyed. Those words were enough
to tell him that his Kaffir was still faithful,--that he was acting for
the best, and that all would yet be well. He returned to his companions
as cheerful and happy as he had been two nights before, while sitting by
the Dutchman's fireside and, under the exhilarating influence of the
Schiedam.

CHAPTER SIXTY NINE.

THE KAFFIR DISCOVERS TOO MUCH.

When Congo was made aware that the giraffes were missing, he believed
himself more to blame than any one else. Conscience told him that he
had neglected his duty. His regret for what had happened inspired him
with a strong resolve to do all in his power towards recovering the lost
animals. On examining the broken stockade through which they had
escaped, he had doubts as to its being their work. In crushing out the
posts with the weight of their bodies they must have made a noise that
he should have heard; for the giraffes had been tied within ten yards of
where he had passed the night. The posts to which they had been
attached had not been dragged away, as would have been the case had the
animals drawn them out with their rheim fastenings. He had a suspicion
that they had been taken down by human hands; but, as the others did not
appear to think so, he fancied there might be a possibility of his being
wrong. He therefore kept his suspicions to himself. Had he said that
the giraffes could not have knocked down the stockade without his
hearing them, he would have been told that he was too drunk to hear
anything, and his testimo