I think that the old fellow must be dead."
"Very likely," answered Stephen (we had become intimate and I called
him Stephen now), "a man alone among savages might easily come to
grief and never be heard of again. Hark! What's that?" and he pointed
to some gardenia bushes in the shadow of the house near by, whence
came a sound of something that moved.
"A dog, I expect, or perhaps it is Hans. He curls up in all sorts of
places near to where I may be. Hans, are you there?"
A figure arose from the gardenia bushes.
"/Ja/, I am here, Baas."
"What are you doing, Hans?"
"I am doing what the dog does, Baas--watching my master."
"Good," I answered. Then an idea struck me. "Hans, you have heard of
the white Baas with the long beard whom the Kaffirs call Dogeetah?"
"I have heard of him and once I saw him, a few moons ago passing
through Pinetown. A Kaffir with him told me that he was going over the
Drakensberg to hunt for things that crawl and fly, being quite mad,
Baas."
"Well, where is he now, Hans? He should have been here to travel with
us.
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