care, but just sit still in
peace and quietness.

They were thus sitting a few days after Nidia's return, when the latter
startled her friend by an apparently insane proposal. "Let's go for a
bike ride, Susie; a real good long one."

"Great Heavens! Is the child mad? Why, we'd run into those hateful
black wretches before we'd gone a couple of miles. They're all round us
thick as bees. Why, we could see them no further than Government House
only this morning."

"That's just the way I wanted to go. It would be such fun to see how
near we could get, and then skim away downhill again. They'd look so
sold."

"Haven't you had enough of that sort of thing yet, Nidia? If I had been
through one-tenth of what you have, I'd never want to go adventuring any
more."

"Perhaps I've contracted a taste that way now," was the reply, with a
weariful laugh. "But anything rather than sit still as we are doing. I
want a little excitement--a stirring up."

The other stared in wild amazement. Was the child really going off her
head? she thought again. But a knock on the open door announced the
advent of visitors, and lo! two men bronzed and coatless, according to
the fashion in Rhodesia, swept off their broad-brimmed hats and entered.
They were, in fact, Tarrant and Carbutt, and at sight of them Nidia
brightened up somewhat.

"Well, and what's the latest in the way of scares?" she began, after the
exchange of greetings.

"None at present, Miss Commerell," replied Carbutt. "Things are slack.
We shall have to go and have another slap at the niggers up yonder, to
keep the rust off. They are getting altogether too cheeky, squatting
around Government House its very self."

"That'll make a little excitement," said Nidia. "We can watch your
deeds of derring-do from here through the glasses."

"Heavens, no!" said Mrs Bateman, with fervour. "I don't want to see or
hear anything more of those dreadful wretches, except that they've all
been shot."

"By the way, there is a small item in the way of the latest," said
Tarrant, carelessly. "Another man has rolled in who had been given up
as a dead 'un."

"Yes. Is it anybody we know?" asked Nidia, quickly.

"I rather think it is," returned Tarrant, watching her face yet while
not seeming to. "Ames of Sikumbutana."

Nidia caught her breath with a sort of gasp, and her whole face lit up.

"Not John Ames?" she cried, as though hanging on the answer. Then, as
Tarrant nodded