on meeting him in battle with
such small numbers. And this would be easier, for the Gcaleka country
had been swept from end to end and its inhabitants driven beyond the
Bashi--for a time. In which process the Kaffrarian Rangers had
gallantly borne their part.

As the hour for starting drew near, prodigious was the fussiness
displayed by Hoste over the preparations. He couldn't find this, and he
couldn't find that--he wanted this done and that done--in short made
himself a signal nuisance. Now all this was done in accordance with a
crafty idea of Payne's. "The women will be bound to turn on the
waterworks. Therefore, give them plenty to do. Fuss them out of their
very lives so that they won't have time so much as to think of
snivelling--until we're gone, and then it won't matter," had enjoined
that unprincipled philosopher--who had sent his own family down to King
Williamstown some days previously.

"Do you mind taking a quarter of an hour's stroll, Eanswyth?" said
Eustace in his most matter-of-fact way, shortly before they were due to
start. "You see, neither Tom nor I can tell how long we may be away,
and there are two or three things in connection with our joint
possessions which I should like to discuss with you."

Eanswyth's heart gave a bound. The time of parting was drawing very
near, and it seemed as if no opportunity would be offered them of seeing
each other alone; that their farewell must be made, even as that other
farewell, in the presence of half a dozen people. But his readiness of
resource had hit upon a way, while she, all unnerved as she was, could
think of nothing.

It was a lovely night. The thin sickle of a new moon hung in the
heavens, and the zenith was ablaze with stars. Behind, the lights of
the village, the sound of voices and laughter; in front, the darkness of
the silent _veldt_. Far away against the blackness of the hills glowed
forth a red fire.

Thus they stood--alone--and the time seemed all too short. Thus they
stood--alone beneath the stars, and heart was opened to heart in the
terrible poignancy of that parting hour.

"Oh, my darling, what if I were never to see you again! What if you
were never to come back to me!" burst forth Eanswyth in a wail of
anguish. "You are going into all kinds of danger, but oh, my loved one,
think of me through it all--think of me if you are tempted to do
anything foolhardy. My heart is almost broken at parting with you like
this.