d
the patrol commander. "We mean to stick it."

"Vat you mean by 'stick it'?" demanded the envoy.

"To fight it out," was the grim reply. "Come on; we're ready."

The German made no further remark to the Rhodesian, but began an
harangue in the native dialect, inciting the blacks to turn against
their white allies, promising immunity and rewards.

"Stop that!" shouted the patrol commander sternly, raising his voice
above the angry murmur of the villagers. "Another word and the flag of
truce will not protect you."

The Hun scowled sardonically, and out of sheer bravado resumed his
incitement to the natives to surrender.

Picking up a rifle the Rhodesian took careful aim at the horse's chest
at point-blank range. The weapon barked. For a moment neither horse
nor rider stirred, then without warning the animal's forelegs
collapsed, throwing the Hun headlong in the dust.

The terrified orderly wheeled, and casting aside the white flag, rode
at full gallop to the shelter of the bush, his hasty and undignified
retreat being carried out without let or hindrance on the part of the
defenders of the kraal.

The German officer lay where he fell, the dead steed pinning him down
as it lay on its side with its hind, off-side leg rigidly extended at
an oblique angle to the ground. Partly stunned by his fall the officer
tried ineffectually to rise; then after a while he relaxed and lay
motionless in the broiling sun with swarms of mosquitoes buzzing round
the prostrate horse and rider.

Apart from the advantage of having a prisoner in their possession the
call of humanity urged the defenders to release and bring in the
injured Hun. The barricaded gate was thrown open, and two troopers ran
to effect the work of mercy. Even as they bent over the prostrate
officer and dragged aside the animal's carcass a ragged fire burst from
the bush at a distance of five hundred yards. Bullets ricochetted from
the dusty ground or whizzed unpleasantly close to the men's ears; but
coolly they proceeded with their task, and, unscathed, regained the
shelter of the stockade, bearing their prisoner between them.

"It's von Bohme, second-in-command of the Kelji Post," declared Rupert
Wilmshurst. He was too chivalrous to relate the indignities and
hardships he had suffered at the hands of this Hun in particular.
"They abandoned the post yesterday. Unless I'm mistaken they've a
couple of machine guns with them."

"Any field guns?" asked D