this rising, then?" I asked.

"Yes, sah. Dem know since five o'clock. Kaffir boys from Klaas's brought
in de news; and a white man escaped from Rozenboom's confirm it. We
have pickets all round. You is safe now; you can ride on into Salisbury
witout fear of de Matabele."

I rode on, relieved. Mechanically, my feet worked to and fro on the
pedals. It was a gentle down-gradient now towards the town. I had no
further need for special exertion.

Suddenly, Hilda's voice came wafted to me, as through a mist. "What are
you doing, Hubert? You'll be off in a minute!"

I started and recovered my balance with difficulty. Then I was aware at
once that one second before I had all but dropped asleep, dog tired, on
the bicycle. Worn out with my long day and with the nervous strain,
I began to doze off, with my feet still moving round and round
automatically, the moment the anxiety of the chase was relieved, and an
easy down-grade gave me a little respite.

I kept myself awake even then with difficulty. Riding on through the
lurid gloom, we reached Salisbury at last, and found the town already
crowded with refugees from the plateau. However, we succeeded in
securing two rooms at a house in the long street, and were soon sitting
down to a much-needed supper.

As we rested, an hour or two later, in the ill-furnished back
room, discussing this sudden turn of affairs with our host and some
neighbours--for, of course, all Salisbury was eager for news from the
scene of the massacres--I happened to raise my head, and saw, to my
great surprise... a haggard white face peering in at us through the
window.

It peered round a corner, stealthily. It was an ascetic face, very sharp
and clear-cut. It had a stately profile. The long and wiry grizzled
moustache, the deep-set, hawk-like eyes, the acute, intense,
intellectual features, all were very familiar. So was the outer setting
of long, white hair, straight and silvery as it fell, and just curled
in one wave-like inward sweep where it turned and rested on the stooping
shoulders. But the expression on the face was even stranger than
the sudden apparition. It was an expression of keen and poignant
disappointment--as of a man whom fate has baulked of some well-planned
end, his due by right, which mere chance has evaded.

"They say there's a white man at the bottom of all this trouble," our
host had been remarking, one second earlier. "The niggers know too much;
and where did they get their r