I satisfied myself by straining at my bonds that this solitude gave no chance of escape.

I wanted food, and I shouted on 'Mwanga, but he never came.

Then I rolled over into the shadow of a wacht-en-beetje bush to get out of the glare.
I saw a Kaffir on the other side of the bush who seemed to be grinning at me.

Slowly he moved round to my side, and stood regarding me with interest.
'For God's sake get me some food,' I said.
'Ja, Baas,' was the answer; and he disappeared for a minute, and returned with a wooden bowl of hot mealie-meal porridge, and a calabash full of water.
I could not use my hands, so he fed me with the blade of his knife.
Such porridge without salt or cream is beastly food, but my hunger was so great that I could have eaten a vat of it.
Suddenly it appeared that the Kaffir had something to say to me.

As he fed me he began to speak in a low voice in English.
'Baas,' he said, 'I come from Ratitswan, and I have a message for you.' I guessed that Ratitswan was the native name for Arcoll.