They are beginning
to send up rockets at your place." And Harley Greenoak, who had ridden
up unperceived in the excitement, dismounted, and walked up the steps.

"I should think so," said Waybridge, impatiently. "By the way,
Greenoak, I wish you'd sent us some sort of warning. I'd have taken it
from you."

"Couldn't, earlier than this moment."

The rescue party now assembled. There were fifteen in all. But the
presence of Harley Greenoak had the effect of sending up their
confidence in themselves and each other. They felt as if their little
force had suddenly been doubled.

"Have you been with Sandili, Greenoak?" said Waybridge, as they rode
forth.

"No. With that fighting son of his, Matanzima. He's practically
_baas_, and he means mischief. He'd have let me be killed, but I
happened to do him an important service some time back, and whatever may
be said about there being no gratitude in a Kafir, there is. I've seen
it in too many instances. Look. There are no less than six places
ablaze."

They were travelling at a smart canter. Glow after glow had arisen, at
intervals over the dim moonlight waste. The barbarous orgy was in full
swing. But no such glare hovered over the site of Waybridge's
homestead. Clearly, therefore, the Gaikas had not succeeded in
capturing the place. The rocket flights had now ceased.

"That young Selmes is a plucky chap," muttered Waybridge, more to
himself than to the others. "It's a Godsend he should be on the place."

"He's all that," said Greenoak. "We shall find your crowd all safe,
never fear."

A little more than an hour's sharp riding and they topped the last rise.
There stood the homestead, white in the moonlight. An exclamation of
relief escaped Waybridge. But on a nearer approach this feeling was
dashed.

"There's been a fight," he said quickly. "Those are dead Kafirs, and,
there are no lights showing."

The dark, motionless forms lying in front of the house, and discernible
in the moonlight, told their own tale. What other motionless forms
would they find within? Instinctively they put their horses at a gallop
now.

"Easy, easy!" warned Greenoak; "that line of quince hedge may cover any
number. We don't need to rush bang headlong into a trap."

The warning told. Wildly excited as the men were now, such was the
influence of its utterer that they slackened pace. Waybridge thought he
had never known what tense, poignant anxiety was until th