ome this way. Two
Pierres would be one too many at this game. Now we must win or perish."

Then they crept along the embankment till they gained the shelter of the
hut or barrack-shed which stood with its back to the dike that separated
the Nest from the slave camp. Happily none saw them, and there were no
dogs in the place. Dogs make a noise at inconvenient times, therefore
slave-dealers do not love them.

The end of the shed behind which they were crouching was situated some
eight or ten paces from the drawbridge, that formed the only path of
entry to the slave camp.

"Baas," said Otter, "let me go forward and look. My eyes are the eyes of
a cat; I can see in the dark. Perhaps the bridge is down."

Without waiting for an answer, he crept forward on his hands and knees
so quietly that they could scarcely hear a movement. Notwithstanding his
white dress, there was little chance of his being seen, for the shadow
of the shed was dense and a fringe of rushes grew along the edge of the
dike.

Five minutes passed--ten minutes passed, and Otter did not return.
Leonard's anxiety grew very keen.

"Let us go and see what happened, mother," he whispered to Soa.

They crept along to the end of the shed. Within a yard of it they
discovered the arms and clothes of Otter. But Otter! Where was he?

"The Black One has deserted us," said Soa beneath her breath.

"Never!" answered Leonard.

By now the clouds were breaking before the wind, which was rising
steadily, and some stars shone out, giving a little light. The dike lay
deep between its banks and was not more than twenty feet in width, so
that the air did not ruffle it; moreover, as any observer of nature will
have noticed, the surface of still water is never quite dark, even on
much blacker nights than this.

Why had Otter taken off his clothes, Leonard wondered? Evidently that
he might go into the water. And what could he want to go into the water
for, unless it was that his heart failed him and, as Soa suggested, he
had deserted. But this was impossible, for he knew well that the dwarf
would die first. In his great perplexity Leonard stared at the dike.
Now he could see that on its further side rose a flight of wooden steps,
protected at the top by gates and that a man was seated on the lowest
step, with a rifle beside him, his feet hanging down to within a few
inches of the surface of the dike. It must be the sentry.

Next instant Leonard saw something else. Benea