e had a disabled native who loaded each rifle in turn; and
just by way of encouraging the others he picked off the prominent men
outside the stockade with a deadly steadiness. By way of relieving the
tension he indulged in an occasional pleasantry at the expense of the
enemy.

"Now," he would say, "there's a man lookin' over that bush with a green
feather on his nut. It's a mistake to wear green feathers; it makes a
body so conspicuous."

And the wearer of the obnoxious feather would throw up his arms and
topple backwards, down the hill.

If Joseph detected anything like cowardice or carelessness he pointed
his rifle with a threatening frown towards the culprit, with instant
effect. Presently, however, things began to get more serious. This
was not the sudden assault of a single chief, but an organised attack.
Before long Joseph ceased to smile. By sunrise he was off the roof,
running from one weak point to another, encouraging, threatening,
fighting, and swearing very hard. More than once the enemy reached the
stockade, and--ominous sign--one or two of their dead lay inside the
defence.

"Fight, yer devils--fight!" he cried in a hoarse whisper, for his voice
had given way. "Hell--give 'em hell!"

He was everywhere at once, urging on his men, kicking them, pushing
them, forcing them up to the stockade. But he saw the end. Half-dazed,
the blacks fought on in silence. The grim African sun leapt up above
the distant line of forest and shone upon one of the finest sights to be
seen on earth--a soldier wounded, driven, desperate, and not afraid.

In the midst of it a hand was laid on Joseph's shoulder.

"There," cried a voice, "THAT corner. See to it."

Without looking round, Joseph obeyed, and the breached corner was saved.
He only knew that his master, who was almost dead, had come to life
again. There was no time for anything else.

For half an hour it was a question of any moment. Master and man were
for the time being nothing better than madmen, and the fighting frenzy
is wildly infectious.

At last there was a pause. The enemy fell back, and in the momentary
silence the sound of distant firing reached the ears of the little band
of defenders.

"What's that?" asked Meredith sharply. He looked like one risen from the
dead.

"Fighting among themselves," replied Joseph, who was wiping blood and
grime from his eyes.

"Then one of them is fighting with an Express rifle."

Joseph listened.

"By God!" he s