t did not seem to fit
the subject or the occasion. But she was thinking of the grave urgency
of Lamont's warning--that they should remove at once; and of this, of
course, the others were in complete ignorance.

"Oh well, a week more or less doesn't matter a row of pins," returned
Fullerton unconcernedly. "That's one good point about this jolly
country, at any rate. No one need ever be in a hurry."

"Nor ever is," appended Wyndham. "Hallo! Here are some police Johnnies
coming along."

Riding single file along a narrow path, which would converge with the
high road a little farther on, they made out a small party of Mounted
Police--a dozen in all. They gained the main road just at the same time
as the mule-waggon crossed the path. The sergeant rode up and saluted.

"Going to Buluwayo?" said Wyndham.

"Yes, sir. And Captain Isard said we'd better keep with you for the
way."

"Sort of escort, eh?"

"That's it, sir."

"Escort!" echoed Fullerton. "Why, what the devil do we want with an
escort? We haven't got the Administrator on board."

"Well, sir," said the sergeant, "the niggers have been a bit sulky of
late, over the wholesale shootin' of their cattle, and it's a wide
stretch of country, and the captain said that as we were going to
Buluwayo in any case, it'd do no harm if we kept with your waggon."

As a matter of fact the men were not `going to Buluwayo in any case,'
but had been specially told off by their commanding officer to escort
this outfit thither. It--for all purposes in his eyes--spelt Clare
Vidal. In spite of his former rejection he had not got over his
weakness for that extremely attractive young person, and here was a
right royal chance to ingratiate himself with her; for of course he
would contrive to let her know later that it was solely upon her account
that the escort had been furnished. Isard had accepted Lamont's warning
with a considerable pinch of salt, still there was no doubt but that
there was unrest among the natives, and where Clare was concerned it was
as well to be on the safe side. The safe side! Well, Isard was steeped
to the crown of his handsome and soldierly head in the British and
military tradition of despising your enemy, wherefore, of course, the
presence of a dozen of his Mounted Police was sufficient to overawe
every squalid nigger in Matabeleland, or the whole lot of them put
together.

"There's something in that, sergeant," said Wyndham, "and it's very