the two men had been
chatting in a low tone. Listening intently, the faintest sort of
crackle, as of something burning, came to the quick ears of one of them.
Now the striking of a light had been strictly prohibited.

Quick to act as to think, Harley Greenoak made straight for the
ammunition waggons, which were drawn up side by side. As he gained them
a figure dashed out of one, nearly upsetting him, and disappeared into
the mist; so quickly indeed as to render it useless to fire at it. But
a more urgent duty lay to the hand of the investigator.

The latter, without hesitation, and in defiance of orders, struck a
light, as he mounted the nearest of the waggons, and well, indeed, was
it that he did so. One of the ammunition cases had been stealthily
removed, and the cavity thus formed was filled with chips and dry grass,
besprinkled with gunpowder, while leading up to this was a fuse,
cunningly contrived of rope strands and tinder wood. A red glow, like
that of a well-lighted cigar, was creeping along with alarming rapidity.
In less than five minutes the whole escort would be blown to atoms. It
took less than five seconds for Greenoak to remove and extinguish the
deadly fuse, just as Ladell came up, and with much strong language
wanted to know who was striking a light contrary to orders.

The while, the fugitive, who had disappeared into the mist, had the
ill-fortune to stumble over Dick Selmes, fast asleep. The latter,
however, lively through recent experiences, was promptly wide awake, and
grabbed him by the leg, throwing him to the ground.

"Why, it's Jacob Snyman," he exclaimed, recognising the other's voice,
and releasing his hold. Hardly had he done so than Greenoak, hearing
the sound, came up. Too late. The fugitive had disappeared.

"Oh, I'll soon bring him back," cried Dick, after the first dozen words
of explanation, and leaping to his feet, regardless of expostulation,
and at imminent risk of being shot by the sentries, he plunged into the
mist.

In hard training, he was able in a moment to bear the clink of stones as
the fugitive ran. A spurt, and he came up with him. The Kafir seeing
only one, and he almost certainly unarmed, drew a sheath knife, and
stood waiting. And just then, as ill-luck would have it, his pursuer
stumbled and fell headlong.

With an evil snarl the Kafir leapt forward. Where was the
pleasant-faced, soft-mannered, civilised native now? A sheer savage
this, about to