sewing. Still, it's
got to be done, and after all, what does it matter how neat the
stitching is?"

It took a good two hours to let out the seams and add the pocket, but at
last that part was completed, and he sallied out to buy some
cotton-wool.

Then he placed the wooden holster of the Mauser in the pocket, and
arranged the wool on either side of it and between it and the waistcoat,
securing it by cross stitches. An hour later the other side was
similarly padded, and he tried the waistcoat on.

The cotton-wool he found had certainly made all the difference. Both
sides beneath his arms were well rounded off, and it would require a
good deal more than a casual glance to detect that matters were not as
they were meant to be. Then he put on the coat, buttoned it up, and,
standing in front of the glass, practised drawing the weapon.

It was wonderful how quickly he could change himself from an unarmed
English youth to one with a deadly Mauser, with ten bullets between
himself and disaster. To thrust his hand beneath his coat, touch the
spring, and unbutton the flap of his hidden pocket was the work of only
a moment, and an instant later the pistol had by its own weight slipped
out, and the butt was in his grasp, while the holster remained in its
old position ready to conceal the weapon again.

Jack practised diligently with and then without the glass, and finally,
feeling satisfied that he was now prepared in case of accidents, donned
his hat and went out for a walk.

No one suspected him, or looked after him as though they had noticed
that he was carrying hidden arms, and even Turner, when he accidentally
ran across him, not only failed to perceive that Jack had something
beneath his arm, but once more dilated on the possibilities of trouble
in the future, and urged him to buy some weapon before returning to
Johannesburg.

"You'd better do as I say, old chap," he said persuasively. "Those
Boers are bad 'uns to deal with at any time, but when they are armed and
you are not--and they know it too--well, it's apt to go hard with the
poor Uitlander."

"Ah, well, I fancy I'll take my chance, or perhaps get a revolver next
time I come south to Durban!" answered Jack with a quiet smile. "You
see, from all accounts they are awfully suspicious fellows, and no one
can pass into the Transvaal with so much as a cartridge; at least,
that's what I have been told."

"Yes, Somerton, there is that difficulty about it," T