ts.
They still held their pieces in readiness for the next opportunity.

"Hoste--Eustace--watch that point where the pumpkin patch ends. They'll
have a clear run of at least a hundred yards there," said Carhayes, who
was sitting on an ant-heap a little apart from the rest, every now and
then taking a shot as he saw his chance.

"It's a devil of a distance," growled Hoste. "Six hundred yards if it's
an inch--Ah!"

For the Kafirs sprang up just where Carhayes had foretold, and again,
with a crash, many rifles were emptied at them. Fifty--thirty--twenty
yards more and they will be safe. Suddenly one of them falls.

"He's down--fairly down!" yelled someone. "A long shot, too. Oh-h-h!
He's only winged! Look! He's up again?"

It was so. The fallen man was literally hopping on one leg, with the
other tucked up under him. In a moment both Kafirs had reached the
cover and disappeared.

"Well, I never!" cried Hoste; "Heaven knows how many shots we've thrown
away upon those devils and now they've given us the slip after all."

"Anyone would take us for a pack of bloomin' sojers. Can't hit a nigger
in a dozen shots apiece. Pooh!" growled a burly frontiersman, in tones
of ineffable disgust, as he blew into the still smoking breech of his
rifle. "Eh, what's that?" he continued as all eyes were bent on the
spot where the fugitives had disappeared.

For a tall savage had emerged from the bush, and with a howl of derision
began to execute a _pas seul_ in the open. Then with a very
contemptuous gesture, and shaking his assegai at his white enemies, he
sprang into the forest again, laughing loudly. They recognised him as
the man who had escaped unhurt.

"Well, I'm somethinged!" cried Carhayes. "That nigger has got the laugh
of us now."

"He's a plucky dog," said another. "If any fellow deserved to escape he
did. Four hundred yards and a score of us blazing away at him at once!
Well, well!"

"I've known that sort of thing happen more than once," said Shelton, the
leader of the party, an experienced frontiersman who had served in two
previous wars. "Same thing in buck shooting. You'll see a score of
fellows all blazing at the same buck, cutting up the dust all round him
till you can hardly see the poor beast, and yet not touching him.
That's because they're excited, and shooting jealous. Now with one or
two cool shots lying up and taking their time, the buck wouldn't have a
ghost of a show--any more than w