e silence of the forest, that
brings back another memory, the memory of a repulsive, agonised face; of
the last shriek as the wretch is dragged under? He himself is now in
well-nigh as hopeless a case. Again between himself and Verna has come
Fate. Can it be that this tribute is to be exacted from him for that
other's blood? Exhausted, despairing, he sits there on the river bank.
Well may he despair. Unarmed and foodless, how shall he ever succeed in
finding his way back to safety?

What is that? The sound of voices coming along the river bank, and with
it the unmistakable rattle of assegai-hafts. Wildly he looks around.
There is nowhere to hide. In a minute they will be upon him. Ha! the
river!

Just below, the current swirled between high banks, which in one place
overhung. By gaining this point--and he was a powerful swimmer--he
might lie _perdu_, half in, half out of the water. They would not think
of looking for him there. Famished, weakened, aching from the dull pain
in his shoulder, he let himself into the water, and swimming noiselessly
downstream gained the desired haven just as some fifty Zulus, in full
war-trappings, came out on the spot where but now he had been sitting.
He could hear the sound of their deep voices, but they did not seem
raised in any unusual tone of curiosity or excitement.

He was half in, half out of the water, clinging to a pile of brushwood
that had been wedged in there. A ripple out on the smooth surface of
the stream evoked another thought. Crocodiles! Heavens! had that same
horrible fate been reserved for himself?

Minutes seemed hours. The water was cold in the early morning, and he
was half numbed. Then he saw the Zulus cross the drift, holding their
shields and assegais high above the water. One tall, finely built man
led. Him he thought he recognised. Surely it was Sapazani.

Sapazani! The chief was on the friendliest terms with Ben Halse.
Everything moved him to come forth and claim his protection, and then a
more subtle instinct warned him not to. He remembered how he himself
had been held in durance at the instance of that very chief, and the air
of mystery that seemed to have hung over that extraordinary proceeding.
They were not at war then, and he had been released. Now they were at
war. No, he would not venture.

He waited until some time after all sounds of them had died away, then
slid into the water again and swam quietly, and with a long s