es. But the sight of that poor young devil being
butchered this morning got on to even my tough old time-hardened nerves,
I allow. Well, to get back to what you were saying. If we're lucky and
get out of this, you are welcome to try your chances with Edala--from
what I've seen of you I can say that wholeheartedly. Only I warn you
that--to use your own words--she _is_ unique. But I daresay you've more
than half fixed it up between you before this."

"I wish we had," was the answer. And then at a signal from the armed
group that watched them, they returned to the hut.

But they found it already tenanted. A man was seated there warming
himself by a fire to which he had just applied a light, and the gleam of
the darting flames was reflected from his head-ring. Then indeed was
astonishment depicted on the faces of both--especially on that of
Thornhill--as they recognised the features of Manamandhla.

The Zulu returned their greeting, and sat silent for a few minutes. So
did they. Blank amazement was in the mind of one, but the other--hoped.
And he had the least reason to hope anything from the man before him,
but he remembered that this man's voice had been raised powerfully for
their protection that very day, wherefore he hoped--on his companion's
behalf if not on his own. Then Manamandhla spoke.

"My life is yet my own, Inqoto, which is well for some."

Thornhill understood the allusion and--hoped still more. He made the
usual murmur of assent.

"Listen _Abelungu_," went on the Zulu, "and I will tell a story. There
were two children--brothers. They fought in the ranks of the _ibuto_
called Ngobamakosi what time the impi of the Great Great One was
defeated _kwa Nodvengu_. [Historically known as the battle of Ulundi.]
Both were wounded in the battle, and could not flee far, so when the
white horsemen poured forth in pursuit they soon overtook these, who lay
down, already dead. The horsemen thundered down upon them, and seeing
that they still moved--for who at such a time sees anything but red?--
pointed their pistols. But another white man rode there too and he
pointed his pistol too--not at those who lay there but at those who
threatened them. They were angry, and words rose high, but they rode on
and left those two children, of whom one is alive to-day."

The speaker paused, and began deliberately to take snuff. Elvesdon was
interested; Thornhill was more, as he bent his glance keenly upon the
dar