Wyvern stamped upon the ground here and there, but it gave
forth the same sound everywhere. Carefully, eagerly, he peered around--
again and again. There was nothing. He was about to leave the place
when--

Something shone.

On the ground, right under one of the shafts of light, it lay. Wyvern
picked it up, and hurried to the daylight. Yet his instincts of
precaution moved him to examine it while still within the shadow of the
cave.

A yellowish, cut stone lay within his hand. Looking at it he felt sure
that it was an opal. And then he had to call up all his self-control to
steady his nerves. Hlabulana's story was no myth. Clearly this was
where the stuff was buried. He would go back and rouse up Fleetwoods--
the good news alone was bound to effect a cure--and they would return
together to dig it up. This rich secret which the Lebombo had held for
so long within its grim fastnesses had been unfathomed at last. Its
treasures would make them wealthy for life, and, above all, would bring
him Lalante.

Would they? He had not found them yet--and with the thought came
another. Opals, according to popular superstition, were unlucky, and
the first sign he had found of the existence and propinquity of the
treasure was an opal. The next moment he laughed at himself for giving
even a thought to such nonsense, and stepped forth once more into the
open day.

Unlucky! Why the whole world seemed to open up in a paradise of
delight. Unlucky! He would return and re-purchase Seven Kloofs, the
place which he loved; and this time old Sanna would not have to complain
that the place needed a "Missis." Le Sage's objection was not to
himself but to his impecuniosity, and that obstacle removed, why then--
Unlucky!

With a hard ring and a splash of lead, the bullet flattened on the rock
beside him, simultaneously with the roar of the report, which rolled, in
a volley of echoes, among the surrounding krantzes.

"Bully Rawson, of course," exclaimed Wyvern to himself, as he quickly
got behind a rock to consider best as to how he should return the fire.

But this was not quite so easy, for the simple reason that his assailant
kept closely concealed. A wreath of smoke hanging in front of a thick
row of foliage fringeing the lip of a low krantz some hundred yards
distant, showed the point of concealment. He realised too, into what a
tight place he had got. His cover was totally inadequate, and whoever
was making a ta