precisely the same thing had happened to Thornhill.

"Resist not, either of you," said an authoritative voice. "Any
resistance and all shall die--all, all of you."

"What does it mean?" asked Elvesdon, shortly.

"This, Ntwezi. For you two we have a use. For your women we have none.
They may go home. But, only if you make no resistance."

"We agree," said Thornhill. "But let us _see_ them--see them with our
own eyes, depart in safety. There are their horses."

Parry, although he was going into certain death, had ridden as near as
he could to the tumult. With some difficulty he was leading two horses,
and both of these were under side saddles.

"Kill him--kill him," began to be cried. "He is Only a common
policeman. He is of no use."

"But he is of use," shouted Elvesdon, who began now to see his way,
hearing this. "No common man is he. He is only playing at police."

This was effective. Three hostages were better than two. Parry's life
was saved--for the present, but he was ordered to dismount, and by the
advice of his superior he complied. His revolver was taken from him--
Thornhill and Elvesdon had been similarly disarmed--and he was
immediately hemmed in by a ring of blades.

"Now tell your women to go," said the man who appeared to be exercising
chief authority. "I will send men with them to see them safe to their
home."

"May I not bid my daughter farewell?" said Thornhill, with something of
a tremor in his voice, and instinctively taking a step forward.
Instantly a line of blades barred his way.

"Be content, be content," answered the chief. "You are still alive, and
your women are safe. Now walk."

"To Tongwana?"

No reply was made to this, but there was no help for it. Hemmed closely
in by the huge armed force, they were marched along over the very ground
which they had traversed so light-heartedly barely an hour before. No
indignity was offered them, but they knew that escape was as impossible
as though they had been bound with thongs--at any rate just then.

They had this consolation however. The chief had kept his word.
Looking backward just before they plunged over the ridge they could make
out the mounted figures of the two girls away over the plain, the armed
escort, keeping pace, distributed on either side--and they were making
for home, not for Kwabulazi.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

UNPROTECTED.

"What--will happen to--them?"

It was Evelyn who jerked this forth.