or the last and final charge. It was a wildly
exciting moment--the issues, life or death.

The lines were rapidly closing in. With maddened yells and assegais
uplifted, the Kafir warriors were straining every effort to complete
that fatal circle. A few yards more--twenty--ten! it was done. They
were hemmed in.

But the headlong, dashing valour of the two men stood them well. Not a
moment did they pause. With a wild shout Hoste put his horse straight
at a huge barbarian who strove to stop him--knocking the savage
sprawling, and through the opening thus breached the two horsemen shot
like an arrow from the bow, and having the advantage of a down-hill
course they left the fierce and yelling crowd behind in a trice. Far
from safe were they yet. A hole concealed in the grass--a strained
sinew--a hundred unforeseen circumstances--and they would be at the
mercy of their merciless foes.

And now the latter began to open fire upon them, and the crackle of the
volley behind mingled with the ugly hum of missiles overhead and around.

"_Allamaghtaag_! My horse is hit!" exclaimed Payne, feeling the animal
squirm under him in a manner there was no mistaking.

"So?" was the concerned reply. "He's got to go, though, as long as you
can keep him on his legs. If we can't reach the river, or at any rate
the thick bush along it, we're done for."

They turned their heads. Though beyond the reach of their missiles now,
they could see that the Kafirs had by no means relinquished the pursuit.
On they came--a dense, dark mass streaming across the plain--steady of
cruel purpose--pertinacious as a pack of bloodhounds. Hoste's steed was
beginning to show ominous signs of exhaustion, while that of his
companion, bleeding freely from a bullet hole in the flank, was liable
to drop at any moment. And the welcome bush was still a great way off--
so, too, was the hour of darkness.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile Eustace, spurring for dear life, realised to the bitter full
that the terrible event which, in spite of himself, he had so ardently
desired, could be of no benefit to him now. For he knew that he was
doomed. Nothing short of a miracle could save his life--which is to
say, nothing could. The very earth seemed to grow enemies. Behind,
around, in front, everywhere, those cat-like, sinuous forms sprang up as
if by magic. Suddenly his bridle was seized. A mass of warriors