"Does the sir call?" asked the bushman, awakened in a moment, and
rolling himself down the mound, on which the store-waggon stood, to the
tent.
"Hush!" said Frankfort softly; "some one breathed close by."
May put his hand to his ear, but all was still, with the exception of an
occasional sigh from an over-tired ox or a muttered growl from one of
the dogs. The ripple of the river tinkled pleasantly some yards off,
but not a breath of wind stirred the boughs. The night was heavy,
though the stars were coming out, and it was impossible to say what
chance of discord existed among the elements.
May pricked up his ears like a little terrier, and Frankfort and he made
a reconnoitring tour round the bivouac; but nothing was to be seen. The
bushman retired to his mat and Major Frankfort to his tent.
The Hottentots slept sound, the huge oxen uttered their periodical
sighs, the bats flitted about the tent, through which the moonlight
began to peep, and at intervals the whine of the wolf came up the valley
marring the silence, but too far off to disturb the sleepers and rouse
the dogs. Frankfort gave a last glance at the Dutchman's farm. It
looked exceedingly picturesque by that mellow light. The whole scene
had an air of peace, little in character with the original possessors of
so lovely a soil. Ah! there came the jackal's cry again, destroying the
illusion, and a responsive laugh followed, like mocking echoes from the
gibbering hyena.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note 1. The Fingoes are the remnant of some powerful nations, conquered
and enslaved by the Kafirs, whom they greatly resemble.