dogs. These, encouraged by the
presence of their owners, and an unmistakable sympathy on the part of
the latter which their instinct realised, rushed with renewed savagery
to the attack.

There were upwards of a score of them; some really fine specimens of the
greyhound breed, tawny or white, and large withal; and now it became
manifest that the evil, contemptuous barbarians were actually hounding
them on. Dick's whip seemed to have lost its effect among the snapping,
frantic pack, and when one brute fastened its teeth in the tendon of the
hind leg of Hazel's steed, Dick Selmes judged it time to draw his
revolver.

The effect upon the dark, jeering crowd was electric. A fierce, deep,
chest-note, akin to a menacing roar, took the place of the derisive
laughter with which the barbarians had been enjoying the fun. Quick as
animals most of them had dived into the huts. In a trice they
reappeared, and there was the glint and bristle of assegais. Truly it
was a formidable-looking mob, that which confronted these two, taking a
peaceful afternoon ride.

The worst of it was the latter were unable to talk the Xosa tongue.
Hazel, though Colonial-born, had no knowledge of it; first, because in
the Cape Colony it is rather the exception than the rule to use anything
but the--now world-famed--_taal_ in intercourse with natives; secondly,
because in her part of the country there were hardly any Kafirs at all,
Dick Selmes because he had never even begun to learn it.

"Try them in Dutch, Hazel," said the latter, quickly. "Tell them if
they don't call the dogs off sharp. I'll shoot the best. Then I'll
begin to shoot _them_. First shot I fire, you start off home at full
gallop, and never mind about me."

She obeyed. At the sound of her voice there was a momentary lull, then
the jeers blared out afresh. Dick Selmes felt his blood fairly boil as
he realised that they were actually mimicking her. Then as the dogs
made another rush, he dropped the muzzle of his revolver and shot the
foremost, fair and square through the shoulders. The beast uttered a
feeble yap and rolled over kicking. The rest hung back.

But its owner, a hulking, ochre-smeared savage, emitted a howl and
rushed forth from the crowd, a long tapering assegai in his hand poised
for a throw. Dick's revolver covered him in a moment. The Kafir, for
all his blind rage, realised that it was pointed straight. He had seen
what execution its wielder could do,