Well, we are going through," he said grimly. Then he gave orders that
the escort should form up in close order round the two waggons, and thus
they gained the top of the next rise.

"Down there, sir," said one of the men, who had brought in the news.

A bushy kloof fell away on their left front, its upper end nearly
touching the road by about fifty yards. This was alive with wild forms,
their red-ochre showing in contrast to the dark green of the foliage.
They made no pretence at concealment either; commenting in their own
tongue with free outspokenness on the Police troopers, to whom they
referred derisively as a lot of half-grown boys. However, this affected
the latter not at all, for the simple reason that the contemptuous
comments were not understood.

Sub-Inspector Ladell was in a quandary. That the savages meant mischief
he was certain. Yet no war had--officially--broken out. If he ordered
the first shot to be fired, why, he incurred a grave responsibility. On
the other hand, the Kafirs were drawing nearer and nearer, crowding
through the bushes like a swarm of red ants. Even as many another, when
in a quandary, he referred to Harley Greenoak.

The latter nodded, and turning his horse, rode a little way out from the
escort in the direction of the Kafirs, yet taking care to keep himself
between them and the ammunition waggons. Then he lifted up his voice
and hailed the enemy. From the latter a great shout went up.

"_Whau_--Kulondeka!"

Kulondeka--meaning "safe"--was, it will be remembered, the name by which
Harley Greenoak was known among all the tribes by whom the Bantu
dialects were spoken.

"You know me," he went on. "Good. Then come no nearer. The
_Amapolise_ have enough cartridges to keep on shooting you down like
books for an entire day, or even more."

Even as he spoke the order had been given to load and dismount.
Cartridges were slipped into the breeches of carbines, and those told
off to hold the horses had got them in hand. The fighting-line stood,
waiting the word to fire. Harley Greenoak had not dismounted. Now he
galloped quickly out of the firing-line, reining in ahead of the
foremost of the ammunition waggons--that driven by Jacob Snyman.

With a sudden roar--deafening, terrific--the cloud of red savages came
surging up the slope. They had flung off their blankets, and were
whirling and brandishing these as they ran, with the double object of
stampeding the horses, and di