I say. Bring him out."

"Bring him out--bring him out," roared the crowd, brandishing assegais
and rapping their shields, in an indescribable clamour.

"_Hau_! _Umfane_! I will cut thee into little pieces," cried one
fellow, seizing my boy Tom by the throat and brandishing a big assegai
as though he would rip him up.

"Have done!" I said pulling my revolver and covering the savage. "See.
We hold plenty of lives here."

Falkner too had drawn his and was eagerly expecting the word from me to
let go.

"Hold!" roared the spokesman, in such wise as to cause the aggressive
one to fall back. "Now, Umlungu, give us the dog."

"First of all," I said, "if the dog belongs to Udolfu, why is not Udolfu
here himself to claim him? Is he afraid?"

"He is not afraid, Umlungu," answered the man, with a wave of the hand.
"For--here he is."

A man on horseback came riding furiously up. With him were a lot more
armed Zulus running hard to keep pace with him. In a twinkling I
recognised we were in a hard tight place, for the number around us
already I estimated at a couple of hundred. He was armed this time, for
he carried a rifle and I could see a business-like six-shooter peeping
out of a side pocket. It was our old friend, Dolf Norbury.

"Hallo, you two damned slinking dog thieves," he sung out, as the crowd
parted to make way for him. "Here we are again you see. Not yet within
British jurisdiction, eh?"

There was a banging report at my ear, and lo, Dolf Norbury and his horse
were mixed up in a kicking struggling heap.

"I don't take that sort of talk from any swine, especially outside
British jurisdiction," growled Falkner, hurriedly jamming in a cartridge
to replace the one he had fired.

There was a rush to extricate the fallen man, and ascertain damages. It
turned out that he had not been hit but his horse was killed. He
himself however seemed half stunned as he staggered to his feet. Then
up went his rifle but the bullet sang high over our heads in the
unsteadiness of his aim.

"Put up your hands!" I sung out, covering him before he could draw his
pistol. "Hands up, or you're dead, by God!"

He obeyed. Clearly he had been under fire enough.

"Go in and take his pistol, Sewin," I said, still covering him steadily.
"If he moves he's dead."

It was a tense moment enough, as Falkner walked coolly between the rows
of armed savages, for to drive half a dozen spears through him, and
massacre the lot