Suddenly he laid his hand upon my arm and said: "Baas, listen! I hear a ghost.

I think it is the ghost of Sammy asking us to bury him." "Bosh!" I answered, and then listened as hard as I could.
Now I also seemed to hear something coming from I knew not where, words which were frequently repeated and which seemed to be: "_O Mr.Quatermain, I beg you to be so good as to open the door of this oven._" For a while I thought I must be cracked.

However, I called back the others and we all listened.

Of a sudden Hans made a pounce, like a terrier does at the run of a mole that he hears working underground, and began to drag, or rather to shovel, at a heap of ashes in front of us, using a bit of wood as they were still too hot for his hands.

Then we listened again and this time heard the voice quite clearly coming from the ground.
"Baas," said Hans, "it is Sammy in the corn-pit!" Now I remembered that such a pit existed in front of the huts which, although empty at the time, was, as is common among the Bantu natives, used to preserve corn that would not immediately be needed.