irl
mischievously.

"He shouldn't have it at all. You know, Miss Vidal, it's an unwritten
rule up here that none of us wear coats."

"But I notice that you are all mighty particular about your collars and
ties," laughed Clare.

"'M--yes. But wearing a coat stamps you as a new-comer. Even Ancram
here has fallen into our way."

Ancram had, and moreover mightily fancied himself accordingly; and had
turned on an additional swagger which he flattered himself still further
marked him out as the complete pioneer. He had been introduced to
Clare, but inwardly raged at the marked coldness in her demeanour
towards himself. It was no imagination, he was satisfied, her frank
sunniness of manner towards everybody else placed that beyond a doubt.
Others had remarked on it too.

"What have you been doing to Miss Vidal, old chap?" one of his
newly-found friends inquired. "She seems to have a down on you." And
Ancram had replied that he was hanged if he knew.

"Why, he's missed all the races," went on the first speaker, referring
to Lamont. "He's looking a bit seedy too. And--no, he hasn't. He
hasn't got on his revolver."

"That's rum, for he never moves without it," said another. "We chaff
him a bit about that, Miss Vidal, but he says he prefers being on the
safe side."

"Lamont would prefer that," said Ancram significantly.

"Haven't you just been stopping with him?" said Clare rather sharply,
turning on the speaker. "He's a friend of yours, isn't he?"

"Um--ah--yes, yes. Of course," was the somewhat confused reply.

"I'm not sure Mr Lamont isn't right," she went on for the benefit of
the rest. "This is a country full of savages, and savages are often
treacherous. Aren't they, Mr Driffield?"

"Aren't who, and what, Miss Vidal?" replied the Native Commissioner, who
was in the act of joining the group. She repeated her remark.

"Oh yes. You'll get Ancram to agree with you on that head," he added
significantly.

"There!" she cried triumphantly.

"I say, though, Miss Vidal," objected another man, "you surely wouldn't
have us all roll up at a peaceable gymkhana hung round with
six-shooters, like the conventional cowboy? Eh?"

"Well, where should we be if a Matabele impi were to rush in on us now?"
she persisted. "Utterly at its mercy, of course. Imagine it charging
out from there, for instance," pointing towards the dark line of bush on
the slope of Ehlatini.

Some of the other occupants of the `g