the kopjes. To this end,
Peters and his force spent a long time searching the wild and broken
ground, and, incidentally, shooting an odd Matabele or two engaged in
outlying scouting. But the search proved futile; moreover, a large
impi--far too large for them to engage unless they desired to court
disaster--appeared on their front, effectually barring further advance.
Sorrowfully they returned to the Kezane to report their failure.

That was a day destined to remain engraved in lurid letters on Clare
Vidal's memory as long as she should live. She would not have believed
the human mind to be capable of bearing so acute a stage of anguish as
that which filled hers when the party returned, without--him. But with
her it took no form of tears or hysteria. Pale, stony-eyed, she asked
her questions calmly, and with coolness and acumen. Had they really
searched exhaustively. Was it likely he had been taken prisoner? In a
word--was there any hope?

"There's life, you must remember, Miss Vidal," had answered the officer
in command of the Scouts. "The very fact of finding no trace of him
shows that he was not killed there, at any rate. If he has been
captured--well, prisoners have been known to escape. There have been
instances of such."

"But--not many?"

The other's heart smote him. He had known of cases wherein men had
blown their own brains out rather than accept the chances of life on
such odds. He could only repeat--

"Well, there have been such instances. Natives very rarely take
prisoners at all. The fact that they had not killed Lamont there and
then, and it is certain they had not, seems to show some powerful motive
for sparing his life for the present. And, while there is life--"

"--There is hope. Yes, I know. And now, what is going to be done to
try and save him?"

The other felt troubled, and looked it. His orders were to keep the
road open, and afford escort to such outlying whites as desired to reach
a place of safety. He did not see how he could take his troop off this
duty, to engage in an indefinite search for one man, who would almost
certainly have been murdered long before they should so much as hear of
him--even if they ever did.

"This is one thing that's going to be done, Miss Vidal," cut in Peters.
"I'm going to try and find him,--I for one. Wyndham I know will make
another, and it'll be strange if we don't find a good few more who'll
volunteer."

"I'll go with you," said