decidedly small, but he was not going to show it.

"You speak the truth, Hlangani," he answered calmly. "You are not my
enemy. No man of the race of Xosa is. But why do you come here? There
is bad blood between you and the owner of this place. Surely the land
is wide enough for both. Why should your pathways cross?"

"Ha! _You_ say truly, Ixeshane. There _is_ blood between me and the
man of whom you speak. Blood--the blood of a chief of the House of
Gcaleka. Ha!"

The eyes of the savage glared, and his countenance underwent a
transformation almost magical in its suddenness. The smiling,
good-humoured expression gave way to one of deadly hate, of a ruthless
ferocity that was almost appalling to contemplate. So effective was it
upon Eustace that carelessly, and as if by accident, he interposed his
body between Eanswyth and the speaker, and though he made no movement,
his every sense was on the alert. He was ready to draw his revolver
with lightning-like rapidity at the first aggressive indication. But no
such indication was manifested.

"No. You have no enemies among our people--neither you nor the
_Inkosikazi_"--went on Hlangani as his countenance resumed its normal
calm. "You have always been friends to us. Why are _you_ not living
here together as our friends and neighbours--you two, without the poison
of our deadly enemy to cause ill-blood between us and you--you alone
together? I would speak with you apart, Ixeshane."

Now, Eanswyth, though living side by side with the natives, was, like
most colonial people, but poorly versed in the Xosa tongue. She knew a
smattering of it, just sufficient for kitchen purposes, and that was
all; consequently, but for a word here and there, the above dialogue was
unintelligible to her. But it was otherwise with her companion. His
familiarity with the language was all but complete, and not only with
the language, but with all its tricks. He knew that the other was
"talking dark," and his quick perception readily grasped the meaning
which was intended to be conveyed. With the lurid thoughts indulged in
that morning as regarded his cousin still fresh in his mind, it could
hardly have been otherwise.

He hated the man: he loved the man's wife. "How is it going to end?"
had been his unuttered cry just now. "How is it going to end!" she had
re-echoed. Well, here was a short and easy solution ready to hand. A
flush of blood surged to his face, and his hear