an an unwillingness to go
against the other in any single detail. A curious change had come over
him since his rescue--since the man he had wronged, as he thought, had
ridden into the very jaws of death to bring him out. He regarded his
rescuer now with feelings akin to veneration. He had at the time,
expressed his sorrow and regret in shamefaced tones, but Blachland had
met him with the equable reassurance that it didn't matter. And then he
had eagerly volunteered for this expedition because Blachland was in it,
and once there, he had watched his rescuer with untiring pertinacity to
see if there was nothing he could do for him, even if he could risk his
life for him. More than once he had striven stealthily to forego his
own scanty rations when they were messing together, pretending he
loathed food, so that there might be a little more for this man whom he
now regarded in the light of a god; but this and other attempts had been
seen through by their object, and effectually, though tactfully,
frustrated. Hunger and exhaustion, however, are somewhat of an antidote
to even the finest of finer feelings, and Justin Spence was destined to
experience the truth of this.

The patrol was resting. Thick bush surrounded the position, with long
grass and boulders. But the ground had been well scouted in advance:
and in rear--well, the strength of the command was distributed in that
direction. There were granite kopjes, too, which could be turned to
good account.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"_Whau_!" grunted Ziboza, the fighting induna of the Ingubu regiment.
"I think we have them now. They have no more waggons to hide behind,
and the _izikwakwa_ are broken down, for did we not find their wheels?
These are they who would have captured the Great Great One. We shall
see, ah--ah! Now we shall see."

Squirming like snakes through the long grass and bush, the Matabele
advance, stopping every now and again to reconnoitre. They can hear the
subdued hum of voices in the sorry camp of the whites--and on each face
raised to peer forward, there is a ferocious grin of anticipation. In
obedience to the signalled orders of their leaders they spread their
ranks, so as to be in a position to surround that sorry command with the
first order issued. More and more are pressing on from behind--and the
bush is alive with swarming savages, creeping, crawling onward. The
dreaded _izikwakwa