gave poor Charlie a dose of something that seemed to kill him; he said
he had that drug from the Kaffirs. Then he opened up those wounds upon
his thigh and cleaned them out and bandaged them with boiled herbs.
Afterwards, when Scroope came to again, he gave him a drink that threw
him into a sweat and took away the fever. The end of it was that in
two days' time his patient sat up and asked for a square meal, and in
a week we were able to begin to carry him to the coast.

"Guess that message of yours saved Brother Scroope's life," said old
John, as he watched him start.

I made no answer. Here I may state, however, that through my own men I
inquired a little as to Brother John's movements at the time of what
he called the message. It seemed that he /had/ arranged to march
towards the coast on the next morning, but that about two hours after
sunset suddenly he ordered them to pack up everything and follow him.
This they did and to their intense disgust those Kaffirs were forced
to trudge all night at the heels of Dogeetah, as they called him.
Indeed, so weary did they become, that had they not been afraid of
being left alone in an unknown country in the darkness, they said they
would have thrown down their loads and refused to go any further.

That is as far as I was able to take the matter, which may be
explained by telepathy, inspiration, instinct, or coincidence. It is
one as to which the reader must form his own opinion.

During our week together in camp and our subsequent journey to Delagoa
Bay and thence by ship to Durban, Brother John and I grew very
intimate, with limitations. Of his past, as I have said, he never
talked, or of the real object of his wanderings which I learned