l on the bank and running swiftly in
the direction the fugitive had taken.

For a little time he did not see her, then he glimpsed the white of a
pique dress, and with a yell of admonition started in pursuit.

She stood hesitating a moment, then fled, but he was on her before she
had gone a dozen yards; the counterpane was flung over her head, and
though she kicked and struggled and indulged in muffled squeaks, he
lifted her up in his arms and staggered back to the boat.

They ran out a gangway plank and across this he passed with his burden,
declining all offers of assistance.

"Close the window," he gasped; "open the door--now, you naughty old
lady!"

He bundled her in, counterpane enmeshed and reduced to helpless silence,
slammed the door and leant panting against the cabin, mopping his brow.

"Phew!" said Bones, and repeated the inelegant remark many times. All
this happened almost within sight of the quay on which Sanders and
Hamilton were waiting. It was a very important young man who saluted
them.

"All correct, sir," said Bones, stiff as a ramrod; "no
casualties--except as per my nose which will be noted in the margin of
my report--one female prisoner secured after heroic chase, which, I
trust, sir, you will duly report to my jolly old superiors----"

"Don't gas so much, Bones," said Hamilton. "Come along and meet my
sister--hullo, what the devil's that?"

They turned with one accord to the forest path.

Two native policemen were coming towards them, and between them a
bedraggled M'lama, her skirt all awry, her fine hat at a rakish angle,
stepped defiantly.

"Heavens!" said Bones, "she's got away again.... That's my prisoner,
dear old officer!"

Hamilton frowned.

"I hope she hasn't frightened Pat ... she was walking in the
reservation."

Bones did not faint, his knees went from under him, but he recovered by
clutching the arm of his faithful Ali.

"Dear old friend," he murmured brokenly, "accidents ... error of
judgment ... the greatest tragedy of my life...."

"What's the matter with you?" demanded Sanders in alarm, for the face of
Bones was ghastly.

Lieutenant Tibbetts made no reply, but walked with unsteady steps to the
lock-up, fumbled with the key and opened the door.

There stepped forth a dishevelled and wrathful girl (she was a little
scared, too, I suspect), the most radiant and lovely figure that had
ever dawned upon the horizon of Bones.

She looked from her staggered broth