g and falling,
the distant death-scream, as the miserable fugitives fall ripped, hacked
to fragments by their ferocious pursuers. And still the terrible wave
pours on.

"This is going to be a hard business," muttered Laurence between his set
teeth. "How many do you size them up at, Hazon?"

"Twenty thousand, rather more than less. That's just how Cetywayo's
people came on at Isandhlwana, only there they took us more by surprise.
Well, we're not a lot of soldiers here anyway to scatter all over the
veldt. If they take this position they'll have to rush it, and rush it
hard. Well, do you believe in the Ba-gcatya now, Stanninghame?"

Save a nod the other makes no answer, and now the attention of both men
is upon the scene before them.

Some few of the fugitives, in the desperation of their terror, are
gradually outstripping their pursuers. Against these whole flights of
casting spears are launched, amid roaring shouts of bass laughter.
Finally the last one falls.

And now the array of the enemy is but half a mile distant from the
slaver's position. Far over the plain, in immense crescent formation,
the barbarian host sweeps on, now in dead silence, not hesitating a
moment, for the spoor left by the slavers is broad and easy. Now it can
be seen that these warriors are of splendid physique. Most of them are
nearly naked save for their flowing war-adornments of hair or
jackal-tails. Many are crowned with towering ostrich plumes, both black
and white; others wear balls of feathers surmounted by the scarlet tuft
of the egret; some, again, have round their heads bands of the hide of
the spotted cat; but all flaunt some wild and fantastic adornment. And
the great hide shields, with their party-coloured facings and tufted
tops, are Zulu shields, and the broad stabbing spear is the Zulu
_umkonto_, or assegai.

There is a lurid fascination in gazing upon the awful splendour of this
fierce and formidable battle-rank, which set even Laurence
Stanninghame's schooled nerves tingling. As for Holmes, he could hardly
remain still in his excitement. But in Hazon's piercing eyes there was a
glow in which the lust of combat, despair of success, and the most
indomitable resolve were about equally intermingled. The countenance of
Lutali betrayed no change whatever. The bulk of the slave-hunters were
scowling and eager; but the miserable slaves, realizing that massacre
awaited them, were moaning and trembling with fear. Under the slave-yo