top the march of events. My
thoughts ran on a native rising, and I kept telling myself how little
that was probable. Where were the arms, the leader, the discipline? At
any rate such arguments put me to sleep before dawn, and I wakened at
eight to find that nothing had happened. The clear morning sunlight,
as of old, made Blaauwildebeestefontein the place of a dream. Zeeta
brought in my cup of coffee as if this day were just like all others,
my pipe tasted as sweet, the fresh air from the Berg blew as fragrantly
on my brow. I went over to the store in reasonably good spirits,
leaving Wardlaw busy on the penitential Psalms.

The post-runner had brought the mail as usual, and there was one
private letter for me. I opened it with great excitement, for the
envelope bore the stamp of the firm. At last Colles had deigned to
answer.

Inside was a sheet of the firm's notepaper, with the signature of
Colles across the top. Below some one had pencilled these five words:

'The Blesbok[1] are changing ground.'

I looked to see that Japp had not suffocated himself, then shut up the
store, and went back to my room to think out this new mystification.

The thing had come from Colles, for it was the private notepaper of the
Durban office, and there was Colles' signature. But the pencilling was
in a different hand. My deduction from this was that some one wished
to send me a message, and that Colles had given that some one a sheet
of signed paper to serve as a kind of introduction. I might take it,
therefore, that the scribble was Colles' reply to my letter.

Now, my argument continued, if the unknown person saw fit to send me a
message, it could not be merely one of warning. Colles must have told
him that I was awake to some danger, and as I was in
Blaauwildebeestefontein, I must be nearer the heart of things than any
one else. The message must therefore be in the nature of some
password, which I was to remember when I heard it again.

I reasoned the whole thing out very clearly, and I saw no gap in my
logic. I cannot describe how that scribble had heartened me. I felt
no more the crushing isolation of yesterday. There were others beside
me in the secret. Help must be on the way, and the letter was the
first tidings.

But how near?--that was the question; and it occurred to me for the
first time to look at the postmark. I went back to the store and got
the envelope out of the waste-paper basket. The postmark was