bethought her of the fairy tales of her
childhood, in which the ogre fed up the princess whom he purposed to
devour.

"You should think of your own strength, Mr. Meyer," she said; "you
cannot live on coffee and squareface."

"It is all I need to-night. I am astonishingly well since you came back.
I can never remember feeling so well, or so strong. I can do the work
of three men, and not be tired; all this afternoon, for instance, I have
been carrying provisions and other things up that steep wall, for we
must prepare for a long siege together; yet I should never know that
I had lifted a single basket. But while you were away--ah! then I felt
tired."

Benita changed the subject, asking him if he had made any discoveries.

"Not yet, but now that you are back the discoveries will soon come. Do
not be afraid; I have my plan which cannot fail. Also, it was lonely
working in that cave without you, so I only looked about a little
outside till it was time to go to meet you, and shoot some of those
Matabele. Do you know?--I killed seven of them myself. When I was
shooting for your sake I could not miss," and he smiled at her.

Benita shrank from him visibly, and Mr. Clifford said in an angry voice:

"Don't talk of those horrors before my daughter. It is bad enough to
have to do such things, without speaking about them afterwards."

"You are right," he replied reflectively; "and I apologise, though
personally I never enjoyed anything so much as shooting those Matabele.
Well, they are gone, and there are plenty more outside. Listen! They are
singing their evening hymn," and with his long finger he beat time to
the volleying notes of the dreadful Matabele war-chant, which floated up
from the plain below. "It sounds quite religious, doesn't it? only the
words--no, I will not translate them. In our circumstances they are too
personal.

"Now I have something to say to you. It was unkind of you to run away
and leave me like that, not honourable either. Indeed," he added with a
sudden outbreak of the panther ferocity, "had you alone been concerned,
Clifford, I tell you frankly that when we met again, I should have shot
you. Traitors deserve to be shot, don't they?"

"Please stop talking to my father like that," broke in Benita in a
stern voice, for her anger had overcome her fear. "Also it is I whom you
should blame."

"It is a pleasure to obey you," he answered bowing; "I will never
mention the subject any more. Nor do I bl