township, would he have been so eager? Yes, he would. He could safely
say that. But he would not have suffered from this overweighting,
distracting apprehension begotten of the knowledge that one of these two
was Clare Vidal.

But if his chief for the time being was silent, the same could not be
said of Peters. For Peters was giving a graphic account of all that had
befallen, and especially was he graphic on the barbarous massacre of the
Tewson family. His object was to inflame the minds of these men, to
work them up to a very fever-heat of desire for revenge; thus would each
man feel endowed with the strength and bravery of six, and they would
need it too, for after all their force was a puny one--yes, a very puny
one, considering the overwhelming odds they would almost certainly have
to encounter.

They made Langrishe's Store in fine time, but--where was Langrishe? No
answer was returned to their loud, impatient hail. He could not be
away, for the door was half open. Some opined that he was probably
drunk, but to two there, at any rate, that silence bore an ominous
similarity to that which had signalled their approach to another
homestead only yesterday morning. The solution was somewhat startling.
From the partly open door half a dozen armed savages shot forth, and
darted for the nearest bush with inconceivable swiftness.

But not one of them was destined to reach it. A perfect howl of rage
went up from the spectators, and waiting for no word of command a dozen
horsemen were on the heels of the fugitives, who were shot down to a
man. It was all over in a moment.

"Loosen girths everyone and water the horses while we investigate,"
ordered Lamont. "No time to off-saddle."

It was even as they had dreaded. Lying behind the counter of his store
was the body of poor Langrishe, the skull battered in, the clothing
riddled with assegai cuts, but the body was still quite warm. Bales and
cases, and goods of every description, were piled and heaped about in
the last degree of confusion. The murderers had obviously been too busy
looting to hear the approach of the party and so secure their own safety
in time. The wrath of the latter found vent in bitter curses, and
blood-curdling promises of vengeance upon the whole Matabele race.

But the ride had been a forced and a hot one, eke a dusty one and a dry.
One of the men came forward.

"Captain," he said, with a glance at the bar shelves, "some of us are
thi