"And a dog," muttered the sailors, falling back. "With a mouthful of
teeth."

The mate and Venning stepped out as the canoe reached the deck, and
the mate turned the lantern full on the huddled group, showing a
jackal, with raised mane and bared teeth, crouching over the
prostrate form of a man, whose teeth also were bared, and whose eyes
seemed to glare with the same fury that showed in the flaming green
eyes of the animal.

"What a pair of demons!"

"The man is gagged and bound, captain," said Venning. "If the cook
will bring a piece of meat for the jackal, I think I can get to the
man without trouble."

"You've done very well, Venning," said Mr. Hume, quietly. "Leave
this matter to me; it is more in my line."

With his eyes on the jackal, he placed his hand on the side of the
canoe and moved forward gently while he spoke in Kaffir. "Peace,
little friend," were his words, as he afterwards explained to the
amazed captain. "We are hunters both, eh? We know each other, eh?
There is no harm in me towards you. You know it, little hunter; you
know it well."

It was strange to hear the deep accents of an unknown tongue,
strange to see a man using speech in complete gravity to a wild
animal, but stranger than all to note the effect on the animal
itself.