In the night a storm came on, under cover of which Pereira and Klaus escaped.  As they dared not go forward for fear lest they should fall into the hands of the Zulus, they fled back northwards, running all night, only to find in the morning that they had lost their way in the bush.  This had happened nearly a month before—­or, at any rate, Klaus thought so, for no doubt the days went very slowly—­during which time they had wandered about, trying to shape some sort of course by the sun with the object of returning to the camp.  They met no man, black or white, and supported themselves upon game, which they shot and ate raw or sun-dried, till at length all their powder was done and they threw away their heavy roers, which they could no longer carry.

It was at this juncture that from the top of a tall tree Klaus saw a certain koppie a long way off, which he recognised as being within fifteen miles or so of Marais’s camp.  By now they were starving, only Klaus was the stronger of the two, for he found and devoured some carrion, a dead hyena I think it was.  Pereira also tried to eat this horrible food, but, not having the stomach of a Hottentot, the first mouthful of it made him dreadfully ill.  They sought shelter in a cave on the bank of a stream, where grew water-cresses and other herbs, such as wild asparagus.  Here it was that Pereira told Klaus to try to make his way back to the camp, and, should he find anyone alive there, to bring him succour.

So Klaus went, taking the remaining leg of the hyena with him, and on the afternoon of the second day arrived as has been told.

CHAPTER X

VROUW PRINSLOO SPEAKS HER MIND

Now, when the Hottentot’s story was finished a discussion arose.  Marais said that someone must go to see whether his nephew still lived, to which the other Boers replied “Ja” in an indifferent voice.  Then the Vrouw Prinsloo took up her parable.

She remarked, as she had done before, that in her judgment Hernan Pereira was “a stinkcat and a sneak,” who had tried to desert them in their trouble, and by the judgment of a just God had got into trouble himself.  Personally, she wished that the lion had taken him instead of the worthy Hottentot, although it gave her a higher opinion of lions to conclude that it had not done so, because if it did it thought it would have been poisoned.  Well, her view was that it would be just as well to let that traitor lie upon the bed which he had made.  Moreover, doubtless by now he was dead, so what was the good of bothering about him?

These sentiments appeared to appeal to the Boers, for they remarked:  “Ja, what is the good?”

“Is it right,” asked Marais, “to abandon a comrade in misfortune, one of our own blood?”

“Mein Gott!” replied Vrouw Prinsloo; “he is no blood of mine, the evil-odoured Portuguee.  But I admit he is of yours, Heer Marais, being your sister’s son, so it is evident that you should be the one to go to seek after him.”