instant the
leopard skin was thrown back, and the right arm of a tall athletic Kafir
was bared. The hand grasped a light assagai, or darting spear. Both
men were taken by surprise, and for one instant they glared at each
other. The instance between them was so short that death to each seemed
imminent, for the white man's weapon was a deadly one, and the cast of
the lithe savage would doubtless have been swift and sure.

In that instant of uncertainty the white man's innate spirit of
forbearance acted almost involuntarily. Dally had hitherto been a man
of peace. The thought of shedding human blood was intensely repulsive
to him. He lowered the butt of his gun, and held up his right hand in
token of amity.

The savage possessed apparently some of the good qualities of the white
man, for he also at once let the butt of his assegai drop to the ground,
although he knew, what Dally was not aware of, that considering the
nature of their weapons, he placed himself at a tremendous disadvantage
in doing so--the act of throwing forward and discharging the deadly
fire-arm being much quicker than that of poising and hurling an assagai.

Without a moment's hesitation George Dally advanced and held out his
right hand with a bland smile.

Although unfamiliar with Kafir customs, he had heard enough from the
Dutch farmers who drove the ox-teams to know that only chiefs were
entitled to wear the leopard skin as a robe. The tall form and
dignified bearing of the savage also convinced him that he had
encountered no ordinary savage. He also knew that the exhibition of a
trustful spirit goes a long way to create good-will. That his judgment
was correct appeared from the fact of the Kafir holding out his hand and
allowing George to grasp and shake it.

But what to do next was a question that puzzled the white man sorely,
although he maintained on his good-natured countenance an expression of
easy nonchalance.

Of course he made a vain attempt at conversation in English, to which
the Kafir chief replied, with dignified condescension, by a brief
sentence in his own tongue.

As George Dally looked in his black face, thoughts flashed through his
brain with the speed of light. Should he kill him outright? That would
be simple murder, in the circumstances, and George objected to murder,
on principle. Should he suddenly seize and throw him down? He felt
quite strong enough to do so, but after such a display of friendship it
woul