when, moved by the first instincts of self-preservation, he
had given the same.

Well, and what then? The extinction of this horde of cannibal barbarians
was a mere trifle, a drop in the bucket, when looked at beside other
dark and ruthless deeds which he had witnessed, and even actually aided
in. But hard, pitiless, utterly impervious to human suffering as he had
become, there was one point in Laurence Stanninghame's character--a weak
point, he regarded it--which he had never succeeded in eradicating. He
could not forget or ignore a good turn. These people, monstrous,
repulsive as they were in his sight, had saved his life--twice
indeed--the first time unconsciously from the Ba-gcatya, the second time
from themselves. They might have slain him barbarously at almost any
moment--he was but one among a number; yet they had not, but instead had
treated him hospitably and well. He was resolved, at any risk, to save
them.

Mgara, entering, lost no time in making known his errand.

"O stranger guest, whom we have treated as a friend," he began, "save us
from the slave-yoke, and the guns and spears of your people, for they
are upon us already." And rapidly he narrated the tidings brought in by
the scouts.

"I will do what I can, Mgara," answered Laurence. "Listen. All your
people must retire within the huts; not one must be seen. Further, two
of your men must bear a token from me to El Khanac, my brother-chief,
who leads yonder host, and that at once. Now, call those two men."

Swift of resource, Laurence picked up a flat piece of wood and, scraping
it smooth with his knife, wrote upon it in pencil:

"_I owe these people my life. Keep ours in hand until we meet._"

"These are the messengers, Mgara?" he went on, as the head man returned
accompanied by two men. "Are they reliable, and above all, fearless?"

"They are both, Sidi," answered the chief, now very deferential. "One is
my son, the other my brother's son."

"Good. Let them now get a piece of white flaxen cloth, and bind it and
this token to a staff. Then let them seek out El Khanac yonder."

In a moment this was done, and, bearing the impromptu white flag and the
writing on the board, the two young men started off into the scrub.

"Retire now into your houses, Mgara, you and all your people. I alone
will stand within the gate, and maybe it will be well with you."

The Wajalu, who had been hanging on every word, now hastened to obey;
nevertheless there was t