know that I want to see one of these native performances
again," said Evelyn Carden. "Don't think me unappreciative, Mr
Elvesdon, but really this has given me the creeps. It all seemed so
fearfully natural."

"Ah, well. It isn't musical comedy, you know," he answered with forced
lightness.

"Old Tongwana ought to have figured in a swallow-tailed coat and a top
hat and a _mutya_" said Thornhill. "That might have given a Gilbert and
Sullivan smack to it."

The laugh that greeted this was feeble. But now Elvesdon noted with
intense relief that the horses had been saddled up at last--they
themselves had more than halved the distance to the camp by that time,
and of coarse could see everything that was going on there all the way.

Too late.

A burst of voices on the right front, and then the impi appeared,
pouring over the ridge, forming a dense black line between them and the
camp and, of course the horses. Then, extending, the warriors executed
the surround manoeuvre and having thus completely hemmed in their
guests--or their victims--they recommenced the war-dance.

"Oh for Heaven's sake, Mr Elvesdon, tell them to stop and go away,"
said Evelyn Carden. "This is horrible, hateful."

Elvesdon called out to more than one whom he knew by name but if they
heard him they pretended not to. If the first performance had been
terrifying to the uninitiated this one was infinitely more so: the
roaring and the stamping, the sea of dreadful faces and gleaming bared
teeth, the forest of waving blades, and the animal-like musky odour--as
the frenzied circle tightened, its dense ranks drawing nearer and
nearer. It was of no use for both men to shout at the top of their
voices that they had had enough of the show, and that the ladies were
getting frightened. The roaring only increased and the foremost of the
frenzied performers shook their blades right in their faces. Elvesdon
was convinced that his last moment had come. This was exactly the Hope
programme repeated. It was hard to be butchered unresisting, but any
resistance would certainly involve the massacre of the girls as well.

A sort of gasp from Evelyn made him turn. She was sinking to the
ground.

"I feel rather faint," she murmured.

Elvesdon bent down to help her, and as he did so he was suddenly seized
from behind by several powerful hands, most effectively pinioning him.
At the same time half a dozen assegai blades were held against his
chest. And