Regardless of the horrible pain the unfortunate one was suffering, bent upon catching the drift of his message before the soul could escape the tortured body, Tyope almost lay down on the groaning man.
"What news do you bring?
Speak!" he hissed into his ear.
The wounded warrior moaned, moaned again.

Tyope grew wild.
"Speak!" he growled, and shook him by the shoulder so rudely that the other screamed.
"The Moshome," he gasped, "they--they--have come on to us." A chill went through his body; he lay there gasping, incapable of speech.
Tyope was frenzied; he again shook the dying man ruthlessly.
"Where have they attacked ?" he roared.
"West." "Have they killed any of our people ?" "I--don't--know," breathed the poor fellow.

His head was swaying; it rolled back and forth on the ground.

Tyope could not obtain any further reply.

So he crawled back and left him to die.