wherefore he pulled up sharp.
Kafirs are sworn dog fanciers, and not infrequently have more affection
for their dogs than their children; but this particular one had still
more affection for his life, wherefore he halted. Then both knew that
the situation was saved.

Slowly, warily, they rode on--on, not back; for Dick bore well in mind
Harley Greenoak's precept, never to let savages think you are afraid of
them; the Kafirs hurling after them all manner of jeering abuse, which
it was quite as well that Hazel, at any rate, did not understand.

"We are well out of that," said Dick, reloading the discharged chamber
from some extra cartridges loose in his pocket. "The infernal
scoundrels! Hazel, darling, I'm afraid I have let you in for a
considerable scare."

"I wasn't scared to speak of. Dear, but you did bring it off well. I
shall--should--always feel so safe with you."

"Shall--should?" he repeated, looking at her. "No, there's no occasion
to correct the grammar. Let it stand as at first."

The girl made no reply, but her face, half turned away from him, was
wondrously soft. Yes, indeed--that which she had found wanting in him
was abundantly supplied now, she was thinking. She almost felt
compunction for the conditions she had imposed upon him that morning--
and yet--and yet--was it not sound sense, after all? But what if it
should fail--would she still have it in her to stand firm? Well, of
that she did not care to think--as yet.

"We are nearly at Sampson's store now," said Dick, when they had gone a
couple of miles further. "Shall we go on and have a yarn with the old
chap, or take a round and get home, for it's just as well not to pass
that hospitable hornets' nest again?"

"Just as you like," she answered, then added: "Let's go right on, and
have a chat with old Sampson. It's early yet. What's this?"

A body of Kafirs appeared in sight, coming down the road towards them.
They seemed about thirty in number, and the glint of assegais was plain,
even from these. Now, Kafirs were not wont to patrol the roads in armed
bodies. They travelled normally in twos and threes, carrying the usual
kerries. Yet these were many and armed.

Dick Selmes was conscious of a tightening of the heart. What did it
mean, at that time of day, when the atmosphere was rife with disquieting
reports?

"We must go through them," he said. "There's no other course short of
turning and running away. And that wouldn't