"Perfectly. Muntiwa and Booi."

"All right. The whole of that stock was stolen, and they've been run in
at Fort Lamport and committed for trial at the Circuit Court, which'll
be held in a week or two."

"That's good business," said Renshaw. "How were they nobbled?"

"Why, a Dutchman spotted them just outside Fort Lamport, and recognised
some of the cows as belonging to his uncle or somebody. He said nothing
at the time, but just trotted up to the court and swore an affidavit,
and they were all run in."

"But didn't you say they had a pass?" said Renshaw.

"Of course they had. But therein lies the cream of the whole situation.
The pass turns out a forged one, cooked up by a mission-station Kafir,
and well done it was, too. So much for educating the niggers. It turns
out, too, that the police have discovered these chaps' hiding-place,
away up among the thick bush and caves in Slaagter's Hoek. It was a
regular vultures' nest, chock full of bones of stolen stock. They must
have been at it for years. And then to think of them marching openly
through the country on the strength of that forged pass. Let's hope
they'll get it stiff now they are quodded."

"Who's the circuit judge this time?" asked Renshaw.

"Van Reneen, I expect. Judge Sherrington was round on circuit last
time, so we are sure to have the other man; and a good thing, too. Old
Sherrington loves a black fellow as if he was his father, and lets him
down about as lightly as he comfortably can, and that's very lightly
indeed."

"You are sure to be subpoenaed to give evidence, Chris," said Marian,
mischievously.

"Eh! By Jingo, I never thought of that. I hope not, though!" cried
Selwood, in dismay at the prospect of an enforced absence from home,
involving, moreover, two long and tiresome journeys, and Heaven knew how
many days of kicking up his heels in Fort Lamport, in hourly expectation
of being called. "Well, likely enough they'll have plenty of evidence
without mine. Sellon--Renshaw--how about a stroll round? it's turning
cool now. But we'll do a glass of grog first."

CHAPTER TWELVE.

"HE DOES NOT RING TRUE."

Three weeks had gone by since the arrival of our two friends at
Sunningdale, and yet, although he expected great things--everything--
from the change, Renshaw seemed to find it impossible altogether to
throw off the effects of his recent illness.

Now, to one member of the Sunningdale household this was a source of