Seeing no signs of them, I halted, a desolate creature in a desolate country which I did not know, wondering what I should do and whither I should ride.

Then it was that there happened one of the strangest experiences of all my adventurous life.
As I sat dejectedly upon my horse, which was also dejected, amidst some tumbled rocks that at a distant period in the world's history had formed the bank of the great river, I heard a voice which seemed familiar to me say: "Baas, is that _you_, baas ?" I looked round and could see no one, so, thinking that I had been deceived by my imagination, I held my peace.
"Baas," said the voice again, "are you dead or are you alive?
Because, if you are dead, I don't want to have anything to do with spooks until I am obliged." Now I answered, "Who is it that speaks, and whence ?" though, really, as I could see no one, I thought that I must be demented.
The next moment my horse snorted and shied violently, and no wonder, for out of a great ant-bear hole not five paces away appeared a yellow face crowned with black wool, in which was set a broken feather.

I looked at the face and the face looked at me.
"Hans," I said, "is it you?
I thought that _you_ were killed with the others." "And I thought that _you_ were killed with the others, baas.

Are you sure that you are alive ?" "What are you doing there, you old fool ?" I asked.
"Hiding from the Zulus, baas.

I heard them on the other bank, and then saw a man on a horse crossing the river, and went to ground like a jackal.