Meanwhile, the antelope's head was
fully cooked, and the women and children falling on it like wild
beasts, tore off the scorched fleece and snatched the charred flesh
from the bones with their fingers greedily. It was a hideous sight;
it sickened him to see it.
By--and--by Granville heard a loud voice outside. He listened
in surprise. It sounded as though Barolong had another prisoner.
There was a pause and a scuffle. Then, all of a sudden, somebody
else came bundling unceremoniously through the hole that served for
a door, in the same undignified fashion as he himself had done.
Granville's eyes, now accustomed to the gloom, recognised the
stranger at once with a thrill of astonishment. He could hardly
trust his senses at the sight. It was--no, it couldn't be--yes, it
was--Guy Waring.
Guy Waring, sure enough; as before, they were companions. The
Kelmscott character had worked itself out exactly alike in each
of them. They had come independently by the self-same road to the
rumoured diamond fields of the Barolong country.
It was some minutes, however, before Guy, for his part, recognised
his fellow-prisoner in the dark and gloomy hut. Then each stared
at the other in mute surprise.
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