the grimly consolatory reply.

So, too, are assegai blades. In the midst of that stunning awful crash
that seems to split open the world, five Matabele warriors are lying,
mangled, fused into all shapes--and shapelessness--while nearly twice
that number besides are lying stunned, as though smitten with a blow of
a knob-kerrie.

"_Mamo_!" cries Ziboza, who is just outside the limit of this
destruction, himself unsteady from the shock. "Lo, the very heavens
above are fighting on the side of these whites!"

CHAPTER FIVE.

A SUBLIME LIE.

"Trooper Skelsey missing, sir."

Such the terse report. The patrol had continued its retreat the night
through, taking advantage of the known aversion of the Matabele--in
common, by the way, with pretty nearly all other savages--to fighting in
the dark. Now it was just daybreak, and the muster had been called--
with the above result.

Where had he last been seen? Nobody knew exactly. He had formed one of
the party left as a rear-guard. Sybrandt had, however, exchanged a few
words with him since they had all rejoined the patrol. Some declared
they had seen him since, but, as to time a general mistiness prevailed.

"Well, I can't send back for him," pronounced the commanding officer
curtly. "He must take his chance. I'm not going to risk other men's
lives for the sake of one, and seriously weaken the patrol into the
bargain."

"If you don't mind, Major," said Blachland, who was standing by, "I'll
ride a mile or two back. I believe I can pick him up, and I've got the
best horse of the few left us."

"Guess you'll need him," interjected the American scout.

"Well, I can't give you any men, Blachland," said the Major. "No, not
one single man. You go at your own risk."

"I'll take that. I've been into tighter corners before."

Here several men volunteered, including Percival West. These were
curtly dismissed.

"I don't want you, Percy," said Blachland. "In fact I wouldn't have you
at any price--excuse my saying so." And there was a laugh, in the midst
of which the young fellow gave way to the inevitable.

But there was another man who proved less amenable, and that was Justin
Spence.

"Do let me go, sir," he said, stepping forward. "Skelsey and I
prospected together once."

There was a momentary awkwardness, for all knew that since they had been
in the field together the missing man had refused to exchange a word
with his former chum and partner, whom