now----"

"I have settled it," said Leonard shortly; "go, and be back half an hour
before sundown at latest. Stop! Bring some of those rock-lilies if you
can. The Baas was fond of them."

The dwarf saluted and went. "Ah!" he said to himself as he waddled down
the hill where he hoped to find game, "ah! you do not fear men dead or
living--overmuch; yet, Otter, it is true that you are better here in
the sun, though the sun is hot, than yonder in the cave. Say, Otter, why
does Baas Tom look so awful now that he is dead--he who was so gentle
while yet he lived? Cheat did not look awful, only uglier. But then you
killed Cheat, and the Heavens killed Baas Tom and set their own seal
upon him. And what will Baas Leonard do now that his brother is dead and
the Basutos have run away? Go on digging for the yellow iron which is
so hard to find, and of which, when it is found, no man can even make a
spear? Nay, what is that to you, Otter? What the Baas does you do--and
here be the spoor of an impala buck."

Otter was right. The day was fearfully hot. It was summer in East
Africa, or rather autumn, the season of fever, thunder and rain, a time
that none who valued their lives would care to spend in those latitudes
searching for gold with poor food and but little shelter. But men who
seek their fortunes are not chary of hazarding their own lives of
those of others. They become fatalists, not avowedly perhaps, but
unconsciously. Those who are destined to die must die, they think, the
others will live. And, after all, it does not greatly matter which they
do, for, as they know well, the world will never miss them.

When Leonard Outram, his brother, and two companions in adventure heard