rings on one arm, and all were bedecked with some species of
fantastic and barbarous adornment; the crest of the mohan, or the long
trailing feathers of the blue crane; cows' tails too, and grotesque
necklaces of wooden beads made of "charm" wood; also belts of jackals'
claws. Nearly all had a firearm of some sort, in addition to a goodly
sheaf of dark, snaky assegais. And their intention there could be no
mistaking. They were there to fire this deserted farmstead.

Already they were blowing the torches into flame, chattering volubly in
their destructive glee, as they told each other what a brave blaze this
building was going to make. Already several were dragging up great
piles of dry thorns, torn from the fencing of the empty sheep-kraals,
amid roars of laughter and joking, as the sharp points would prick the
naked carcasses of those who gathered them. This was fun indeed; this
was sport. Many of them had worked as farm servants on just such a
place as this, one or two perhaps on this very place. Now they were
going to enjoy the fun of burning it to the ground, and it would make a
merry blaze. And shut up within it was a white man, one of the dominant
race who was surely and steadily quelling their futile rising, laying
low with its deadly breech-loaders the flower of their youth by
thousands. One of that now hated race would figure herein at his own
holocaust. But this they did not know.

Roden Musgrave thought for a moment, and thought hard. Not for nothing
had the very soul of his absent love thrilled across the mysterious
dream-space of the slumber world--to save him. Not for nothing had that
anguished voice sounded in his ear amid the darkness of the lonely room,
to bid him waken and face the grisly peril which hung over him. A
minute more, and it would have sounded too late: was it not, indeed, too
late now?

There was one chance and only one--the back window. To it immediately
he made his way.

That chance was that the savages had not entirely surrounded the house;
and it was a poor one.

He looked swiftly but warily forth. That side seemed clear. Deeming it
a deserted dwelling the Kaffirs had not thought of surrounding it. All
were now gathered in front watching or aiding in the preparations for a
grand blaze. Yet the light of the torches shed a glow even upon that
side. Still, to hesitate was death.

He dropped through the window, and as he glided swiftly across the open
space, whic