Nkose_, there are people coming," he said. "_Impela_, they are not
very far behind me, and one of them is a white man."

"A white man! What is he like?" said Fleetwood. "Did you see him?"

"_Eh-hi_!" And the young Zulu gave a rapid and graphic description.

"That is Inxele," pronounced Hlabulana, who was squatted near.

Fleetwood turned upon his companion a whimsical look.

"Talk of the devil!" he quoted. "Inxele is their name for Bully
Rawson."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

ENTERING THE TOILS.

"Hi--Yup, friends. Glad to see another white man or two in this sooty,
flame of fire sort of hole," sung out the new arrival in rough
geniality, as he slid from his pony. "Why, if it isn't Joe Fleetwood!
Hullo, Joe, but I'm glad to see you again; that I am."

Fleetwood tried to appear as though that sentiment were reciprocated, as
they shook hands. Then he introduced Wyvern.

"Glad to meet you, Mister," extending a great gnarled paw. In taking it
an intense and unconquerable aversion came upon Wyvern, an aversion
which he believed would have been there in any case, and apart from the
doubtful character Fleetwood had just given. Rawson, for his part, was
appraising Wyvern. So this was the man he had been instructed to "take
care of"; and sizing him up he thought the job would not be a difficult
one. True, the object of such attention was tall and broad and strong--
for the matter of that, Bully himself was no weakling. But he had a
confiding, unsuspicious look which seemed to relieve the undertaking of
nine tenths of its difficulties.

"Going through to Swaziland, I suppose, Joe? You'll not trade a knife
to skin a dog with round here, and, if there was any trade--well, you
see, old man--this is my pitch."

For all the boisterous geniality of the tone, there was a distinct note
of "warning off" underlying.

"Don't be anxious, Bully," said Fleetwood, easily. "I wouldn't overlap
your trade to the tune of a string of beads."

"Damned if you would! Ha-ha, don't I know that?" was the boisterous
reply. "Joe Fleetwood's only another name for straight--all the world
knows that. Don't you agree with me, Mister?"

"Absolutely," answered Wyvern.

"Known him long?"

"Rather," answered Fleetwood for him. "We fought together in the war up
here, and that's equivalent to knowing a man all his life. Why, I
shouldn't be here now if it hadn't been for him."

"Oh, shut off that, Joe," said Wyvern, hastily. "Beside