he possessed of his captors, the chance of
some opportunity presenting itself seemed a fairly good one. But, above
all, he must keep up his character for invulnerability. Neither peril
nor pain must wring from him the faintest indication of weakness.

In furtherance of this idea--the racking, splitting pain in his head
notwithstanding--he sat up and looked deliberately around as though just
awakening from an ordinary sleep. He noticed a start run round the
circle of swarthy, wondering countenances. As he did so, his glance
fell upon one that was familiar to him.

"_Hau_, Ixeshane!" cried its owner, stepping forth from the circle.
"You have come a long way to visit us!" and the ghost of a mocking smile
lurked round the speaker's mouth.

"That is so, Hlangani. Here--tell one of them to dip that half-full of
water at the hole." He had drawn a flask from his pocket and held out
the metal cup. One of the Kafirs took it and proceeded to execute his
request without a word. Then, adding some spirit to the water, he drank
it off, and half-filling the cup again--with raw brandy--he handed it to
the chief. Hlangani drained it at a single gulp.

"_Silungile_!" [Good] he said briefly, then stood wailing as if to see
what the other would say next. Calmly Eustace returned the flask to his
pocket. But he said nothing.

After about an hour's halt the band arose, and, gathering up their
weapons and such scanty _impedimenta_ as they possessed, the Kafirs
prepared to start.

"Can you walk, Ixeshane?" said the chief.

"Certainly," was the reply. His head was splitting and it was all he
could do to keep on his feet at all. Still his new character must be
kept up, and the night air was cool and invigorating. But just as he
was about to step forth with the others, his arms were suddenly forced
behind him and quickly and securely bound. There was no time for
resistance, even had he entertained the idea of offering any, which he
had not.

"Am I a fool, Hlangani?" he said. "Do I imagine that I, unarmed and
alone, can escape from about two hundred armed warriors, think you?
Why, then, this precaution?"

"It is night," replied the chief laconically.

It was night, but it was bright moonlight. The Kafirs were marching in
no particular order, very much at ease in fact, and as he walked,
surrounded by a strong body guard, he could form some idea of the
strength of the band. This numbered at least a couple of hundred, he