Another moment and I had made up my mind.
Signing to Anscombe to follow me, I rode about a hundred yards or more down the nor'-westerly path.

Then I turned sharply along a rather stony ridge of ground, the cart following me all the time, and came back across our own track, my object being of course to puzzle any Kaffirs who might spoor us.

Now we were on the edge of the gentle slope that led down to the bush-veld.

Over this I rode towards a deserted cattle kraal built of stones, in the rich soil of which grew sundry trees; doubtless one of those which had been abandoned when Mosilikatze swept all this country on his way north about the year 1838.

The way to it was easy, since the surrounding stones had been collected to build the kraal generations before.