e the storm. The plotting and disaffection was all below
the surface now, but it was there, and all the more dangerous for that.
The Commandant, with two troops of Police and one seven-pounder gun,
were marching to the Kangala, a deserted trading store, occupying a
useful central position, there to go into permanent camp, and Inspector
Chambers was instructed to join him there, with A. Troop, immediately on
receipt of the said despatches.

"I say, but this express-riding must be a devilish exciting sort of
joke," said Dick Selmes, as he looked at the tired and travel-worn men,
who stood there waiting, while their officers, having disappeared within
the hut, were examining the despatches.

"Don't know about the joke part of it, mister," answered one of them,
"but it was exciting enough this morning early. Why, we narrowly missed
tumbling into a gang of hundreds of 'em, all bristling with assegais and
things. And we shouldn't have missed that if there hadn't been the
devil of a fog on at the time. We saw them, but just managed to slip
away before they twigged us."

"By Jove! You don't say so. Here--come along to our hut and have a
glass of grog. We've got some left, and it'll set you up again."

He had hooked an arm into one of each of them in that boyish impulsive
way which had gone so far to build up his popularity with all in the
camp. The men stared.

"Well, you are a good sort, whoever you are," said one of them. "But we
daren't."

"Oh, it'll be all right. Good old Chambers won't know. He's too much
taken up with reading his post."

"Well, we can't do it, sir--at least not until we're dismissed," the man
added, rather wistfully. "By the way, is there a Mr Selmes in the
camp? Maybe you're him--are you?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Why, there are letters for you then, with those we've brought. They'll
be in there--with the Inspector."

"Hurrah!" cried Dick. "And, I say, you fellows. As soon as you can
break loose, don't forget. There's a glass of grog going over there.
That's our hut--mine and Greenoak's," pointing it out.

Then Chambers came forth. The men saluted, and retired.

"Letters for you, just come, Selmes," said that genial officer.

Dick fairly grabbed them. Only two, one from his father, the other--He
knew that writing. It was Hazel Brandon's.

We are sorry to say that once within the solitude of his hut--Greenoak
was somewhere about the camp--this was the one he opened first. It w