and
braced herself for a scene. But nothing of the sort happened. A while
afterwards she saw the two of them approaching, engaged apparently in
amicable talk.

"Mr. Meyer says that I am no mesmerist, love," said her father, "and I
can quite believe him. But for all that it is a weary job. I am as tired
as I was after our escape from the Matabele."

She laughed and answered:

"To judge by results I agree with you. The occult is not in your line,
father. You had better give it up."

"Did you, then, feel nothing?" asked Meyer.

"Nothing at all," she answered, looking him in the eyes. "No, that's
wrong, I felt extremely bored and sorry to see my father making
himself ridiculous. Grey hairs and nonsense of that sort don't go well
together."

"No," he answered. "I agree with you--not of that sort," and the subject
dropped.

For the next few days, to her intense relief, Benita heard no more
of mesmerism. To begin with, there was something else to occupy their
minds. The Matabele, tired of marching round the fortress and singing
endless war-songs, had determined upon an assault. From their point of
vantage on the topmost wall the three could watch the preparations which
they made. Trees were cut down and brought in from a great distance that
rude ladders might be fashioned out of them; also spies wandered round
reconnoitring for a weak place in the defences. When they came too near
the Makalanga fired on them, killing some, so that they retreated to
the camp, which they had made in a fold of ground at a little distance.
Suddenly it occurred to Meyer that although here the Matabele were safe
from the Makalanga bullets, it was commanded from the greater eminence,
and by way of recreation he set himself to harass them. His rifle was a
sporting Martini, and he had an ample supply of ammunition. Moreover, he
was a beautiful marksman, with sight like that of a hawk.

A few trial shots gave him the range; it was a shade under seven hundred
yards, and then he began operations. Lying on the top of the wall
and resting his rifle upon a stone, he waited until the man who was
superintending the manufacture of the ladders came out into the open,
when, aiming carefully, he fired. The soldier, a white-bearded savage,
sprang into the air, and fell backwards, while his companions stared
upwards, wondering whence the bullet had come.

"Pretty, wasn't it?" said Meyer to Benita, who was watching through a
pair of field-glasses.

"I d