, like the rest?" asked
Mrs Hoste in astonishment.

"No. Not at present, anyway. _I've_ no quarrel with Jack Kafir; rather
the reverse. I own I should like to _see_ the campaign, but I couldn't
do that without drawing trigger, and that's just what I'd rather avoid,
except in a case of absolute necessity."

It might have been imagination, but Eustace fancied he could detect a
look of intense relief pass over Eanswyth's features as he announced his
desire to avoid the scene of hostilities. Yet with so many eyes upon
him--upon them both--he would not look directly at her. Such is the
effect of an _arriere-pensee_. Two days ago he would not have been
careful to study appearances. But a good deal can happen in two days,
notably the establishment of a thorough understanding between two
persons.

"We'll go round to Pagel's first," said Hoste, as the two men strolled
forth. "If rumour has taken shape at all, likely as not it's there we
shall pick it up."

They soon reached the hotel. The bar and smoking-room were crammed with
men--and smoke; men mostly of the farming class; men with large, sinewy
hands, and habited partially or entirely in corduroy. There was a very
Babel of tongues, for pretty nearly every man was talking at once,
mostly on the all-absorbing topic. Some were indulging in chaff and
loud laughter, and a few, we regret to say, were exceedingly unsteady on
their pins.

Rumour, our two friends found, had taken shape, and the great item of
news which everybody was discussing had received the _imprimatur_ of
official announcement. There had been a fight between the Gcalekas and
the Fingoes, and a body of Mounted Police, interfering on behalf of the
latter, had been defeated and forced to retire with the loss of a
sub-inspector and half a dozen men. This had happened in the Idutywa
Reserve two days previously.

Grave news, was the unanimous verdict. Grave news that the enemy should
have triumphed in the very first engagement. Another such success, and
every native from Natal to the Great Fish River would be up in arms.
The news would flash from tribe to tribe, from kraal to kraal, quicker
than a telegraphic message.

"That you, Payne?" cried Hoste.

The man addressed, who formed one of an arguing knot, turned.

"Thought it was," went on the first speaker, shaking hands. "Here's
Milne, on the scare like the rest of us. Carhayes is still on his farm,
standing out longer than even you, eh Pay