he
councillors stood up.

"Good," said Dawes. "Fare thee well, O wearer of the lion's skin.
Between the eyes was the life let out--may that never be the lot of its
wearer, O chief of the Igazipuza."

He knew that Ingonyama was for the time being cowed, and that it was
incumbent upon him to return to his waggons before the reaction should
set in. Yet as he rode at a foot-pace out of the kraal, with the
_induna_ walking beside him, as he passed behind the ranks of excited
barbarians almost within touching distance, he honestly expected every
moment to be his last. A word from the chief, a cry, a signal, and that
armed mass would fall upon him in a moment and hack him into a thousand
pieces. Still, for some unaccountable reason, the "word" remained
unspoken, the signal was not given. It might be that Ingonyama had
further and more fell designs; it might be that he was acting in good
faith, anyhow Dawes reached his waggons unmolested.

But he had ample reason to congratulate himself in securing the presence
of the _induna_--or hostage as the latter really was--for by-and-by, as
the warriors discovered the escape of Gerard, they came surging around
the waggons in a wild, clamourous, threatening crowd. Even then, in the
presence of one of the most trusted councillors of the chief, a massacre
seemed imminent, but eventually they drew off.

Throughout that night as Dawes lay, feigning sleep but never more fully
awake in his life, he was wondering how his young companion had fared.
So far, the latter must have effected his escape, inasmuch as he had not
been brought back. Whether he would ultimately succeed depended largely
on the vigour and persistency wherewith the Igazipuza should prosecute
the pursuit.

But that he himself was the right man to remain behind, John Dawes was
now more than ever convinced. Where would Gerard have been, for
instance, under the critical circumstances of that night? The only
thing to do now was to await with what patience he might the result of
his comrade's enterprise.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

HOW GERARD FARED.

Gerard, up to his chin in water, concealed by the sweeping boughs, stood
back within his hiding-place hardly daring to breathe.

Then it was that his quickness of foresight in swimming rather than
wading, in swimming beneath the surface rather than in the ordinary way,
stood him in good stead, for the first would have troubled the water,
while the second would have sent