he wondered what had become of his
horse. Had it been captured too? But as against this, he recalled the
fact that it was not in the possession of the perpetrators of this
atrocity what time they passed his hiding-place. Well, he supposed he
must give it up as lost, but coming at this juncture the loss was
serious, for he had intended making a quick round in order to warn as
many of the settlers as he could reach.

An hour of further travelling and the bush line would draw to an end in
favour of more open country above. Just before reaching this, however,
a sound reached him. It was the quick whinny of a horse, the shaking of
the saddle-flaps, then a neigh. Of course, to one of Greenoak's rapid
powers of deduction this meant a riderless horse. What if it was his--
what if it had broken away, while the savages were occupied with their
prisoner? A few more minutes and he came in sight of the animal, and--
it _was_ his.

But, holding the end of the bridle-rein, was a man, a native--a
thick-set, ugly, scrabbly bearded savage, and armed. Greenoak's gun was
up in a moment, covering the fellow.

But somehow or other, it did not seem to produce the effect he had
expected. The ugly face split into a white stripe of grin, and a voice
said in excellent English--

"Not shoot, Mr Greenoak. I John Voss."

Well might Greenoak start. This, then, was the fellow who had been
stealthily following him. The make-up was perfect. It happened that
normally John Voss was a singularly neat and smart-looking native, with
an intelligent face and, for a native, a very respectable beard, of
which he was not a little proud. The sacrifice of this latter alone, in
order to transform himself into an evil-looking, squalid savage, argued
a whole-hearted zeal deserving of recognition, and he had certainly
succeeded, for himself, to a dangerous degree at that moment.

"Well, John, you've had a narrow escape," said Greenoak. "But that I
was afraid the horse would have schreked at the shot and cleared, you'd
have been down with a bullet through you at this moment, I believe. Now
let's hear all about it."

The other told him--how he had followed Mantisa, and witnessed his
capture; how in the excitement of that event he had mingled with the
Kafirs in the darkness, and had ridden away upon the horse when their
attention was more fully occupied, intending to wait for its owner at
the point where he judged the latter would reappear. Then