ing. You are
most welcome to any help or hospitality that I can offer, but if
you wish to do more fighting I must ask you to go elsewhere. As
I have told you, we are peaceful men who trade with these people,
and do not wish to be involved in a quarrel with them, which
might expose us to attack or bring us into trouble with the
British Government which has annexed but not conquered their
country. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly. While we are with you we will do nothing, but
afterwards we hold ourselves at liberty to act as we think best."

"Quite so. Meanwhile I hope that you and Mr. Anscombe will make
yourselves comfortable with us for as long as you like."

In my own mind I came to the conclusion that this would be for
the shortest time possible, but I only said--

"It is most kind of you to take in complete strangers thus. No,
not complete," I added, looking towards Anscombe who was
following on the tired horse a few paces behind, "for you knew
his father, did you not?"

"His father?" he said, lifting his eyebrows. "No. Oh! I
remember, I said something to that effect the other night, but it
was a mistake. I mixed up two names, as one often does after a
lapse of many years."

"I understand," I answered, but remembering Anscombe's story I
reflected to myself that our venerable host was an excellent
liar. Or more probably he meant to convey that he wished the
subject of his youthful reminiscences to be taboo.

Just then we reached the house which had a pretty patch of
well-kept flower-garden in front of it, surrounded by a fence
covered with wire netting to keep out buck. By the gate squatted
our three retainers, looking very blown and rather ashamed of
themselves.

"Your master wishes to thank you for your help in a dark hour,
Footsack, and I wish to congratulate you all upon the swiftness
of your feet," I said in Dutch.

"Oh! Baas, the Basutos were many and their spears are sharp," he
began apologetically.

"Be silent, you running dog," I said, "and go help your master to
dismount."

Then we went through the gate, Anscombe leaning on my shoulder
and on that of Mr. Marnham, and up the path which was bordered
with fences of the monthly rose, towards the house. Really this
was almost as charming to look at near at hand as it had been
from far away. Of course the whole thing was crude in detail.
Rough, half-shaped blocks of marble from the neighbouring quarry
had been built into walls an