o, thou wilt not," returned Nteseni, heavily. "I think thy place is
better here among thine own people."

"_Eh he_! That is true, my father. Among my own people."

Nteseni nodded and went out of the hut. There was nothing extraordinary
in this, and the new arrival sat there, letting his tongue go freely,
uttering, for the most part, sheer inventions--plausible inventions.
The while, he would never fail to pause so as to draw forth the comments
of his hearers. These, on their side, met him upon his own ground;
whether he was taken in or not they could not tell, but by that time it
was to them a matter of sheer indifference either way. Nteseni, who had
long since re-entered, was, for him, the most communicative.

Now Teliso was a brave man, even braver than those of his race who had
distinguished themselves on the battlefield, in that he took risks as a
matter of business and in cold blood, such as they would never have
dreamed of taking. But such risks, great as some of them had been,
especially of late, were as nothing to that which he was taking now.
And--all of a sudden he knew it.

His hand dropped carelessly to the right hand pocket of his coat--he had
acquired European ways so there was nothing extraordinary about this
move. Yet there was nothing whatever to have excited any suspicion on
his part. Not a sound had arisen outside. His entertainers sat as
before; no weapons were even visible. Old Zisiso seemed half drowsy,
and the same held good of Nteseni, while the other two, Babatyana and
Nxala were pursuing the conversation in an even, interested tone of
voice. No--it was hard to say where any suggestion of peril might have
come in, unless it was that wondrous, well-nigh supernatural intuition
characteristic of the savage. Yet at that moment Teliso, realised that
he had never been in deadlier peril in his life; no, not even when as a
very young _umfana_ he had raced, with bursting heart, and stumbling
steps, and labouring lungs, with the flying Native Contingent, for the
roaring, flooded passage of Umzinyati river, driven like dust before the
wind by Cetywayo's pursuing victorious destroyers at Isandhlwana.

At this moment he realised that he had one chance, but a desperate one.
He must shoot down, and that with lightning rapidity, at least two out
of these four, and one of the two must be Nteseni, but--what a
responsibility! Then too, he was but imperfectly skilled in the
handling of the weapon