preting, and the other driver Mfutela, seemed
a reliable man. Surely, one would think, there was no room for Falkner
to get into any mischief here.

I was away about three hours. When I came in sight of the camp again,
Tom, who was trotting by the side of my horse, said something that made
me start.

I spurred forward. The outspan was hidden again by another rise in the
ground. Topping this here is what I saw.

Standing forth, in an attitude of the noble art of self-defence, was
Falkner Sewin. His fists were clenched, and his rolled up sleeves
showed a really magnificent display of brown and corded muscle.
Confronting him was a big Zulu, equally muscular, and armed with a
formidable knobkerrie and a small shield. For "gallery" but with their
backs to me, squatted in a semi-circle about thirty more Zulus.

Annoyed as I was, for the life of me I could not but feel interested.
Both the contending parties were watching each other intently and it was
clear that so novel a mode of fighting had appealed to this warlike
people to the extent of their allowing their adversary fair play instead
of rushing him by weight of numbers. I had seen the same kind of thing
among them before, notably on that occasion when Tyingoza's son had
accepted the invitation to head a sort of flying invasion of the
opposite side. But now, as then, they were destined to forget the
strict rules of fair play when blood was up.

The Zulu was waltzing round Falkner, but the latter beyond turning to
face him never moved, and his adversary seemed in no hurry to come
within reach of those formidable fists. Then, goaded perhaps by the
jeers of his comrades, who were tiring of a fight wherein no blows were
struck, he feinted at his adversary's head, then quick as thought threw
up his shield and made a terrific sweep at Falkner's leg beneath it.

But the latter was up to this stale dodge--indeed, I myself had put him
up to it. Springing lightly aside, in time to avoid by a hair's-breadth
a blow that would have shattered his kneecap and set him up with a
highly respectable limp that would have lasted him for the term of his
natural life, he shot out his right fist in such wise as to catch his
assailant smack full on the side of the jaw. The big Zulu went down
like a shot buck hit in full course.

"He's out!" cried Falkner. "John, tell 'em to put up their next man."

But before Jan Boom could render this injunction or not render it, the
whole