e and cleared out of the country in time. More than ever did he
congratulate himself on his escape, when the experiences of the relief
party became known, but it was with dismay that he learned the
disappearance of its leader. For Ancram was getting desperately hard
up, and would soon not know which way to turn. He was not much liked
among those into whose midst he had come. Lamont might have helped
him--probably would--not by reason of what he could tell--the prowess of
the missing man was too much in the air for that--but for old
acquaintance' sake; and now Lamont had disappeared.

The days of that disappearance had just grown into weeks. News would
filter through from outside--of battles fought, of rescues effected; of
losses inflicted upon the savage enemy: but of the missing man, and
those who sought him, came no word, and Clare Vidal, abandoning hope,
could only storm high Heaven with supplication for him, whether in life
or in death.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

"WHERE HE WAS."

Even with the first slip and stumble of his horse Lamont realised that
his last moment had come; and, as he lay pinned there and unable to
move, he restrained a natural instinct to call for assistance. His
fleeing comrades could not render him such, and the attempt would result
in the certain sacrifice of their own lives. His time had come.

He was powerless for resistance. His magazine rifle was lying on the
ground beyond his reach, and his revolver was crushed beneath him in
such manner that he could not get at it. Helpless he awaited his end,
agonising and bitter as such must be.

He saw the swarming savage faces, scowling beneath their war adornments,
the tossing shields and uplifted assegais, as that dark crowd surged
forward, eyeballs glaring and blades lifted, eager to redden the latter
in the blood of a hated and now helpless enemy. He heard the guttural
death-hiss vibrate upon the air--and then--and then--he saw and heard no
more. His horse, rendered frantic with terror, had made a wild effort
to rise, and in so doing had so crushed its rider's leg that the latter
had fainted through sheer acute agony.

"_Wou_! This has gone on too long. He has said that none should be
spared."

"Yet, this one is."

"Ill will befall us, brothers; ill because of it." And Gingamanzi, the
highest in rank of the group of Abantwana Mlimo there deliberating,
clicked deprecatorily, and spat.

This Gingamanzi was a small, crafty-