his? Unheard by the combatants because drowned by the savage
yells and snarls of the one and the terrified screams of the other,
there was a tearing, crashing sound at the upper end of the enclosure.
A man dashed through the thorny fence--a white man--hatless and with
clothes well-nigh in tatters--pale as death, his right hand grasping a
sword-bayonet. Without a moment's hesitation he made straight at the
infuriated beast, darting such a stab with his weapon that had it gone
home the wizard's "familiar spirit" would have needed a successor. The
quick movements of the animal, however, turned the blade aside--result a
deep ugly gash along the ribs. But seeing it had no longer to deal with
a badly frightened woman, but a strong, determined man, the skulking
nature of the beast came uppermost even in the midst of its fury. With
a shrill yelp of pain and fear, it fell off, and, turning, fled through
the entrance like a streak of lightning.

The girl dropped the thorny bough and faced her rescuer, with a burst of
half hysterical laughter. One exclamation escaped her--

"John Ames!"

Wonder, delight, relief--all entered into the tone. In the extremity of
her fear and exhaustion conventionality was lost sight of--formality
forgotten. The name by which she had been accustomed to designate him
alone with her friend, to think of him alone with herself would out.
Not another, word, though, could she utter. She stood there breathless,
panting, a mist before her eyes, after the violence of her exertions,
the extremity of her fear.

"Don't try and talk," he said--"simply rest."

She looked at him--still panting violently--shook her head, and smiled.
She was physically incapable of speaking after her exertion. But even
then a contrast rose vividly before her--this man now, and when she had
last seen him. They had bidden him good-bye, she and her relative, in
the front door of the hotel at Wynberg, cordially--and conventionally--
mutually expressing the wish to meet again soon up-country. Now, here
he stood, having dropped, as it were, from the clouds, to come to her
aid in her moment of sore need. And his appearance--haggard, unshaven,
hatless, his clothes in tatters; yet it seemed to her sufficient at this
moment that he was here at all. For some little while they sat in
silence. Then he said--

"If you are sufficiently rested, tell me how it is you are here--in this
place."

"Oh yes; I can talk now. But--oh, w