It was the country of my own people, and my captors behoved to go cautiously.

They were old hands at veld-craft, and it was wonderful the way in which they kept out of sight even on the bare ridges.
Arcoll could have taught them nothing in the art of scouting.

At an incredible pace they hurried me along, now in a meadow by a stream side, now through a patch of forest, and now skirting a green shoulder of hill.
Once they clapped down suddenly, and crawled into the lee of some thick bracken.

Then very quietly they tied my hands and feet, and, not urgently, wound a dirty length of cotton over my mouth.

Colin was meantime held tight and muzzled with a kind of bag strapped over his head.