committed, as it were, to
a policy of killing us, he will go through to the bitter end, no matter
how many other lives it may cost. That is Sebastian's method."

"You don't think, having once found out that I saw and recognised him,
he would consider the game lost, and slink away to the coast again?"

"Sebastian? Oh, no; that is the absolute antipodes of his type and
temperament."

"He will never give up because of a temporary check, you think?"

"No, never. The man has a will of sheer steel--it may break, but it will
not bend. Besides, consider: he is too deeply involved. You have seen
him; you know; and he knows you know. You may bring this thing home to
him. Then what is his plain policy? Why, to egg on the natives whose
confidence he has somehow gained into making a further attack, and
cutting off all Salisbury. If he had succeeded in getting you and me
massacred at Klaas's, as he hoped, he would no doubt have slunk off to
the coast at once, leaving his black dupes to be shot down at leisure by
Rhodes's soldiers."

"I see; but having failed in that?"

"Then he is bound to go through with it, and kill us if he can, even if
he has to kill all Salisbury with us. That, I feel sure, is Sebastian's
plan. Whether he can get the Matabele to back him up in it or not is a
different matter."

"But taking Sebastian himself; alone?"

"Oh, Sebastian himself alone would naturally say: 'Never mind Buluwayo!
Concentrate round Salisbury, and kill off all there first; when that
is done, then you can move on at your ease and cut them to pieces
in Charter and Buluwayo.' You see, he would have no interest in the
movement, himself, once he had fairly got rid of us here. The Matabele
are only the pieces in his game. It is ME he wants, not Salisbury. He
would clear out of Rhodesia as soon as he had carried his point. But he
would have to give some reasonable ground to the Matabele for his first
advice; and it seems a reasonable ground to say, 'Don't leave Salisbury
in your rear, so as to put yourselves between two fires. Capture
the outpost first; that down, march on undistracted to the principal
stronghold.'"

"Who is no tactician?" I murmured, half aloud.

She laughed. "That's not tactics, Hubert; that's plain common sense--and
knowledge of Sebastian. Still, it comes to nothing. The question is
not, 'What would Sebastian wish?' it is, 'Could Sebastian persuade these
angry black men to accept his guidance?'"

"Sebastian!" I c