d state, as, partly swimming,
partly holding on to a log of driftwood, he allowed the stream to carry
him down. It was a weird experience, whirled along by the current in
the darkness, the high banks bounding a broad riband of stars overhead,
but it was one to be got through as quickly as possible, for have we not
said that the river was inhabited by crocodiles? Carefully selecting a
likely place, the fugitive succeeded in landing.

Many a man in his position, alone, unarmed, and without food, in the
heart of a trackless wilderness whose every inhabitant was
uncompromisingly hostile, would have lost his head and got turned round
indeed. But Hilary Blachland was made of different stuff. He was far
too experienced and resourceful an up-country man to lose his head in
the smallest degree. He understood how to shape his bearings by the
stars, and fortunately the sky was unclouded; and in the daytime by the
sun and the trend of the watercourses whether dry or not. So he began
his retreat, facing almost due south.

Fortune favoured him, for in the early morning light he espied a large
hare sitting up on its haunches, stupidly looking about it. A deft,
quick, stone throw, and the too confiding animal lay kicking. Here was
a food supply which at a pinch would last him a couple of days.
Selecting as shut in a spot as he could find, he built a fire, being
careful to avoid unnecessary smoke, and cooked the hare--his matches had
been soaked in the river, but he was far too experienced to be without
flint and steel.

For four days thus he wandered, without seeing an enemy. A small
deserted kraal furnished him with more food, for he knew where to find
the grain pits, and then, just as he was beginning to congratulate
himself that safety was nearly within his grasp, he ran right into a
party of armed Matabele.

There was only one thing to be done and he did it. Advancing with an
apparent fearlessness he was far from feeling, he greeted the leader of
the party, whom he knew. The demeanour of the savages was sullen rather
than overtly hostile, and this was a good sign, still Blachland knew
that his life hung upon a hair. There was yet another thing he knew,
and it was well he did. This petty chief, Ngeleza, was abnormally
imbued with a characteristic common to all savages--acquisitiveness to
wit. This was the string upon which to play. So he represented how
anxious he was to return to Bulawayo, as soon as possible, ig