ge in the direction of the dark
line of shade thrown by the willows fringing the dam, and on the
opposite side to that watched by Renshaw and his companion.

"Marian, just go to the other side and look if you can see anything.
You won't, I know, but still there's no harm in making sure."

She obeyed. From that side of the house nothing was visible except a
long stretch of sickly moonlight and the line of trees. But the dogs
had disappeared within the shade of the latter and were raising a
clamour that was truly infernal. They seemed to be holding something or
somebody in check. Then she returned to her former post.

"There's nothing there," she said, "at present. Ah!"

Three shadowy figures were flitting round the angle of the outhouse
block above mentioned. They gained the shade thrown by the front of
it--crouched and waited.

"Here they are," whispered Renshaw, under his breath. "I was up to that
dodge. One fellow was told off to draw off the dogs, while these jokers
sneaked up in the opposite direction. Look--here come the rest."

Two more figures followed the first--then another. All were now
crouching in the shadow of the outhouses. Still the yelling clamour of
the dogs sounded distant on the other side, kept up with unabated fury.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

CATCHING A TARTAR.

"Now, Marian," whispered Renshaw. "This is going to be a life-and-death
business, remember. It's them or ourselves. You are sure you have no
womanish qualms in favour of `giving them a chance,' or any madness of
that kind?"

"You will see!" was the curt reply, and the tone was sufficient.

"All right. When I say `Now,' you must let into the fellow I'll point
out to you. Use your shot-barrel, remember. I'm going to let them get
quite close, and we'll give them a heavy charge of loepers apiece. Then
if we get a show we'll follow it up with rifle practice."

She whispered assent, and for some moments they strained their eyes upon
the shade of the outbuildings. Suddenly one dark figure flitted
noiselessly out, followed by another and another, till the whole gang
were full in sight, advancing in a diagonal line.

"Keep cool, Marian, keep cool," warned Renshaw. "Wait for the word.
They are not nearly close enough yet."

On came the six cut-throats. Two black men led--then a bestial-looking,
undersized Bushman Hottentot; his hideous yellow face, repulsive in the
moonlight, cruel, ape-like; his eyes rolling in eager,