shouting and flogging, the whole outfit emerged, panting and
dripping on the opposite bank. By then a great deal more valuable time
had been lost. And it was nearly sundown, and about seven miles of the
most dangerous and bushy part of the road had to be negotiated.

The early afternoon was drawing in, and there is little or no twilight
in those latitudes. They had covered about three miles from the drift,
when suddenly and without any warning a mass of Zulus rose up from the
bush on One side of the road, and roaring "_Usutu_!" charged down upon
the front of the column. They were naked, save for their _mutyas_ and
ornaments of flowing cowhair, and carried shields and bright,
business-like assegais.

"Sapazani's people," exclaimed Ben Halse. "Look out for the chief,
boys. You can't mistake him once you sight him--half a head taller than
the longest here."

There was not even time to dismount, but the revolvers of the police at
such close quarters, aimed low, poured such a terrific fire into the
advancing mass that those behind could not come on for the line of
writhing, struggling bodies that lay in front.

"Give it them again, boys," yelled Sub-Inspector Dering, lifting the top
off the skull of a gigantic savage who was clutching at his bridle rein
with one hand, a broad assegai held ready to strike in the other. The
great body toppled over with a thud, and at the same time another
crashing volley sent many more to earth, the residue dropping into cover
again. With splendid discipline the troop resumed its march.

Fresh cartridges were slapped into the pistols; it seemed likely to
prove a revolver duel, in that the bush was too thick to admit of using
rifles. The trained horses, being all together, had shown themselves
wonderfully free from restiveness. As for the men, an extraordinary
thrill of excitement had run through all ranks. This was battle indeed,
and, so far, they had held their own.

For a few minutes they kept on in silence, with pulses tingling, but
cool-nerved, alert, ready for any fresh move. Then a volley broke
forth, flashing redly from the dim duskiness of the slope. Bullets
hummed over the heads of the troop, two of them splintering the side of
Ben Halse's spider. Verna, who had got out her magazine rifle, and was
straining her eyes in search of a mark, heard them and moved not a
muscle. Her father, who was driving, but whose revolver was ready to
his hand, also took no notice. B