was quickly followed by another and another, his ranks
staggered, swayed this way and that, then dropped down into cover again.

This was the opportunity of the assailed and, incidentally, of Harley
Greenoak. For cover was very scant so near the camp, and when two men
got behind a stone or ant-heap that would not have sheltered one, why,
the bullets had a pitiless knack of finding them out. Utterly
demoralised, the skirmishers crawled away to a remoter point where the
bush grew thicker, and for upwards of an hour kept up a straggling fire.
But they never repeated their first rush. The back of the fight seemed
to have been broken by the terrible execution done during that same
rush. At last, utterly panic-stricken, they fled.

Now A. Troop was ordered to complete the blow by a pursuit; under so
experienced an officer as Inspector Chambers there was no chance of it
being drawn too far. And we may be sure that Dick Selmes did not remain
behind.

For the first time now he realised the sights and horrors of a
battlefield. Wherever he looked it was to behold some stark and gory
corpse, even piles of them where the deadly shrapnel had done its work.
Wounded Kafirs too, groaning and twisting in their pain--ugh! It was
horrible! But, as the Police came up with the rear masses of the flying
enemy, the fierce excitement revived. The horrors were forgotten.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

THE TWO CHIEFS.

"Hallo! Here's a chap we've overlooked," sang out Dick, turning his
horse. Four troopers followed him. A little to the right of the
pursuit a solitary Kafir was standing, peering over a bush. As the five
charged up to him, revolver in hand, he sank to the ground.

"No kill. I hit," he said, in English. "Hit bad--in the leg."

There was no mistake about that. From a neat bullet-hole in the calf,
blood was oozing. However, dismounting, the men kicked his assegai out
of his reach.

"No kill," repeated the fellow, spreading out his hands. "I tell you
something--something you like hear."

Dick Selmes, who, of course, had not the remotest intention of killing a
wounded man, here assumed an aspect of the most merciless ferocity. He
pointed his revolver at the Kafir's head.

"Tell away," he said. "If it's not worth hearing, I'll scatter your
brains, by Caesar's ghost I will!"

"It worth hearing," answered the other. "How you like take chief, eh?"

"Chief? Which chief?"

"Vunisa. Pahlandhle. Two chief."