t.

"Now then, Mainwaring," he said as he reappeared, "chuck up one of
those, as high and as far as you can."

The other did so; Greenoak's rifle spoke. The tin went whizzing further
into the air. Before it came to the ground another bullet struck it,
and sent it skimming along some twenty yards further. A shout of
applause went up from the onlookers.

"There you are," said Greenoak, tranquilly. "It resolves itself into a
matter of what you're accustomed to. Now, I dare say a lot of practice
with that new gas-pipe of yours, Mainwaring, might get one into the way
of it. Still, I don't know--" taking the weapon from him and balancing
it again. "I don't like the hang of it. The hang seems to leave a lot
to be desired."

Then its owner tried some more shots, with fair success, and then Dick
Selmes tried some, but indifferently. The while Harley Greenoak watched
the performance narrowly and critically; hardly foreseeing that this
repeating rifle was destined to play some important part in the doings
of not very far hence.

There were times when Dick Selmes would get low-spirited. There was not
much doing just then, as we have said, and at such times his thoughts
went back to Haakdoornfontein and its grim but kindly old owner, and
more especially, of course, to Hazel Brandon. He had written to her
since he left, but to his disappointment had received no reply. Harley
Greenoak, who was the recipient of his confidences, as they lay in their
hut at night smoking their turning-in pipe, would listen with exemplary
patience, and with much kindly tact strive to comfort him; for he had
given up urging any objection Sir Anson might entertain on the subject.
That must take its chance, he decided. There was nothing to be
downhearted about, he declared. The girl wasn't born who would not
think the better of him for having borne a man's share in active events,
and so he would find when he met her again, and more to the same effect.
All of which was vastly comforting to Dick, who would turn in with the
last impression that if any fellow were found bold enough to tell him
that this world could contain a better chap than Harley Greenoak, why,
he would take infinite pleasure in calling that man a liar.

A day or two later two express-riders, dusty and fagged with hard
riding, arrived in camp with despatches. The burden of these set forth
with unmistakable plainness that the recent apparent quietude was but
the calm befor