the life of the veldt, whose trained eyesight is well-nigh cat-like on
such a night as this. They have measured the ground, too, and so
disposed matters that they know within a yard and to a minute exactly
where and when to open fire upon the advancing British whom their
trustworthy emissaries shall guide into sure and wholesale destruction.

Adrian De la Rey, lying there in the darkness, is waiting and longing,
as no other, for the deadly work to begin. How he will pour lead into
these hated English, how every life taken shall be as the life of his
hated English rival! No quarter shall any receive from his hand when
the slaughter begins. In the darkness and wild confusion none will see,
and if they do, what matter? He will shoot down these cursed _rooineks_
like springbuck, he tells himself, even though they should bellow for
mercy.

He has heard of the well-nigh miraculous escape of that rival, and the
inopportune appearance of his own accomplice; has heard of it, not
witnessed it, because he had sought to be despatched on outpost duty in
the early hours of that morning which was to have brought his rival's
death. Well, he would console himself with the thought that at any rate
he had won Aletta. She had given him her promise, and he knew her well
enough to be sure she would keep it. But what of his side of the
bargain unfulfilled? He had thought of that. He would persuade her
that the firing was to be a sham, and that the firing party were using
blank cartridge. He could easily induce Roux and Delport to swear to
this. Yet, it was inconvenient that Aletta had mustered up the courage
to act as she had done. He ought not to have overlooked such a
contingency. Still, she could not go back upon her promise.

Then, in the darkness, those words return to him--words spoken by his
victim on the very threshold of the tomb. "Within three days will death
find you." Words and tone alike appealed to the superstitious side of
his nature then, and the effect remains now. Perhaps, however, the fact
of his intended victim having escaped death might have robbed the
forecast of its prophetic nature.

A barely audible whisper from his next door neighbour, and then but one
thought alone can find place in Adrian's mind. The moment has come.
Gripping his Mauser in fierce, eager delight, he brings it forward on to
the rest which he has already arranged for it. Pitch dark as it is, he
knows to a yard where the first b