r mouth, from the corner of which an extinct and
forgotten cigar-butt absurdly jutted, bore, like his great gaunt frame,
the ravaging traces of the consuming drink-lust. His well-cut,
loosely-fitting grey morning-coat and trousers were soiled and slovenly;
his blue linen shirt was collarless and unbuttoned at the neck. His grey
felt smasher hat was crammed on awry. But there was a thick lanyard round
the muscular neck, ending in a leather revolver-pouch that was attached to
his stout belt of webbing. A boy with a fifteen-and-sixpenny toy revolver
you can laugh at and squelch; but, Alamachtig! a big man with a Webley and
Scott was another thing. And the frowy barrier of thick, coarsely-clad,
bulky bodies and scowling, yellow-tan faces, began to melt away.

When a clear lane showed to the saloon door, the Dop Doctor took it,
walking with a lurch in his long stride, but with the square head held
upright on his great gaunt shoulders. W. Keyse, Esquire, moved in the
shadow of him, taking two steps to one of his. The swing doors opened,
thudded to behind them....

"Outside.... Time, too!"

The wide, thin-lipped Cockney mouth grinned a little consciously as W.
Keyse jerked his thumb towards the still vibrating doors of the saloon.
"Reg'ler 'ornets' nest o' Dutchies. And I was up agynst it, an' no
mistyke, when you rallied up. An', Mister, you're a Fair Old Brick, an' if
you've no objection to shykin' 'ands ...?"

But the big man did not seem to see the little Cockney's offered hand. He
nodded, looking with the bloodshot and extremely blue eyes that were set
under his heavy straight black brows, not at W. Keyse, but over the boy's
head, and with a surly noise in his throat that stopped short of being
speech, swung heavily round and went down the dusty street, that was
grilling in the full blaze of the afternoon heat, lurching a little in his
walk.

Then, suddenly, running figures of men came round the corner. Voices
shouted, and houses and shops and saloons emptied themselves of their
human contents. The news flew from kerb to kerb, and jumped from windows
to windows, out of which women, European and coloured, thrust eager,
questioning heads.

The Cape Town train that had started at midday had returned to
Gueldersdorp, having been held up by a force of armed and mounted Boers
twenty miles down the line. And a London newspaper correspondent had
handed in a cable at the post-office, and the operator's instrument, after
a f