cognised several. Might not there be among these some who
would befriend him, even as Pukele had done before? He looked for
Pukele, but looked in vain.

He strode up to Madula's camp to all outward appearance as unconcernedly
as when he used to visit the chief's kraal before the outbreak. His
line was to seem to ignore the fact of there being an outbreak, or at
any rate that these here present had anything to do with it.

He found Madula seated against a rock smoking a pipe, and tricked out in
war-gear. With him sat Zazwe, and another induna named Mayisela. And
then, as if his position were not already critical enough, a new idea
came to John Ames. These men had been seen by him under arms, in overt
rebellion. Was it likely they would suffer him to depart, in order
hereafter to bear testimony against them? Indeed, their method of
returning his greeting augured the worst Madula was gruff even to
rudeness, Mayisela sneeringly polite, while Zazwe condescended not to
reply at all. Of this behaviour, however, he took no notice, and
sitting down opposite them, began to talk. Why were they all under arms
in this way? He was glad to have found Madula. He had wanted to find
Madula to induce him to return to his former location. The police
officer and his wife had been murdered, but that had been done by
policemen. It was impossible that Madula could have countenanced that.
Why then had he fled? Why not return?

A scornful murmur from the three chiefs greeted these remarks. Madula
with great deliberation knocked his pipe empty on a stone, and stretched
out his hand for tobacco, which John Ames promptly gave him. Then he
replied that they had not "fled." He knew nothing of Inglefield, and
did not care. If his _Amapolise_ were tired of him they were quite
right to get rid of him. They had not fled. The time had come for them
to take their own land again. There were no whites left by this time,
except a few who were shut up in Bulawayo, and even for these a road was
left open out of the country. If they failed to take it they would soon
be starved out.

This was news. Bulawayo, at any rate, had not been surprised. It was
probably strongly laagered. But they would give no detail. All the
whites in the country had been killed, save only these few, they
declared. Yet he did not believe this statement in its entirety.

John Ames, as he sat there, talking, to all outward appearance as though
no rebellion