half an hour before nightfall, the dwarf appeared at
the mouth of the cave, looking more like a gnome than a man against the
lurid background of the angry sky. A buck was tied across his enormous
shoulders, and in his hand he held a large bunch of the fragrant
mountain lilies.

Then the two of them buried Thomas Outram, there in his lonely grave
which he himself had dug by the gully, and the roll of the thunder was
his requiem. It seemed a fitting termination to his stormy and laborious
life.

CHAPTER V

OTTER GIVES COUNSEL

When the burial was finished and Thomas Outram slept his last sleep
beneath six feet of earth and stones, his brother took out the
prayer-book that Jane Beach had given him, which in truth formed all his
library, and read the funeral service over the grave, ending it by the
glare of the lightning flashes. Then he and Otter went back to the cave
and ate, speaking no word. After they had done their meal Leonard called
to the dwarf, who took his food at a little distance.

"Otter," he said, setting the lantern between them, "you are a faithful
man and clever in your way. I would tell you a story and ask you
something. At the least," he added to himself in English, "in such a
matter your judgment is as good as mine."

"Speak on, Baas," said the dwarf; "my ears are open;" and he squatted
down on the further side of the lantern like some great toad, watching
his master's face with his black eyes.

"Otter, the Baas who is dead and I journeyed to this country about seven
years ago. Before we came here we had been rich men, chiefs in our own
place, but we lost our kraals and cattle and lands; they were sold,
others took them and we became poor. Yes, we who were fat grew lean as
trek oxen at the end of winter. Then we said to each other, 'Here we
have no longer any home, the shame of poverty has come upon us, we are
broken vessels, empty men of no account; also we are chiefs by blood,
and here we cannot let ourselves out to labour like the common people,
lest both the common people and the nobles should make a mock of us. Our
great stone kraal that has been ours for many generations is taken from
us, others dwell in it, strange women order it, and their children shall
move about the land. We will go away.'"

"The blood is the blood," broke in Otter, "the wealth is nothing; that
comes and goes, but the blood is always the blood. Why did you not
gather an impi, my father, and put these strangers