rengthen him. He will need it."

"Well, Eustace, I'm going to kill that dog," said Carhayes. "I'm going
to die fighting anyway, so that's all right. Now--I'm ready. What are
we going to fight with?"

"This," said one of the bystanders, handing him a pair of hard-wood
kerries.

Hlangani now made his appearance similarly armed. The crescent
formation of warriors had narrowed their ranks, the chiefs and
councillors and Eustace and his guards composing the upper arc of the
circle. The prisoner could not have broken through that dense array of
armed men which hemmed him in on every side, had he entertained the
idea.

Both the principals in that strange impromptu duel were men of splendid
physique. The Kafir, nearly naked, looked like a bronze giant, towering
above his adversary in his magnificent height and straight and perfect
proportions. The Englishman, thick-set, deep-chested, concentrated a
vast amount of muscular power within his five-foot-eight. He had thrown
off his ragged shirt, and the muscles of his chest and arms stood out
like ropes. He looked a terribly awkward antagonist, and moreover on
his side the conflict would be fought with all the ferocity of despair.
He was a man bent on selling his life dearly.

Hlangani, for his part, was confident and smiling. He was going to
fight with his natural weapons, a pair of good, trusty kerries. This
blundering white man, though he had the strength and ferocity of an
enraged bull, had more than that quadruped's stupidity. He would knock
him out of shape in no time.

When blood is up, the spirit of Donnybrook is very strong among Kafirs.
The next best thing to taking part in a fight is to witness one--and
now, accordingly, every head was bent forward with the most eager
interest as the two combatants advanced towards each other in the open
space. There was no "ring" proper, nor were there any recognised rules;
no "time" either. Each man's business was to kill or disable the
other--as effectually as possible, and by any means in his power.

Now a smart Kafir, armed with two good kerries whose use he thoroughly
understands, is about as tough a customer to tackle as is a professional
pugilist to the average Briton who knows how to use his hands but
indifferently. Of this Carhayes was perfectly aware. Consequently his
plan was to meet his antagonist with extreme wariness; in fact, to stand
rather on the defensive, at any rate at first. He was a fair si