The place was silent as the grave; not even a dog barked.
"That beast of a Kafir is not here," he said aloud, "I will have him flogged to death.

Hendrik! Hendrik!" As he called, a form rose up at his very feet, causing the weary horse to start back so violently that he almost threw his rider to the ground.
"What in the name of the devil are you ?" almost shrieked Frank Muller, whose nerves, indeed, were in no condition to bear fresh shocks.
"It is I, Baas," said the form, at the same time throwing off a grey blanket in which it was enveloped, and revealing the villainous countenance of the one-eyed witch-doctor, who had taken the letter to Bessie.

For years this man had been Muller's body-servant, who followed him about like a shadow.
"Curse you, you dog! What do you mean by hiding up like that?
It is one of your infernal tricks; be careful"-- tapping his pistol case--"or I shall one day put an end to you and your witchcraft together." "I am very sorry, Baas," said the man in a whine, "but half an hour ago I heard you coming.

I don't know what is the matter with the air to-night, but it sounded as though twenty people were galloping after you.

I could hear them all quite clearly; first the big black horse, and then all those that followed, just as though they were hunting you.