terlaced,
and ran for dear life, black, crouching figures, through the dense, dry
jungle. They held their assegais still, but did not dare to use them. It
was a flight, pell-mell--and the devil take the hindmost.

Not until then had I leisure to THINK, and to realise my position. This
was the first and only time I had ever seen a battle. I am a bit of a
coward, I believe--like most other men--though I have courage enough to
confess it; and I expected to find myself terribly afraid when it came
to fighting. Instead of that, to my immense surprise, once the Matabele
had swarmed over the laager, and were upon us in their thousands, I had
no time to be frightened. The absolute necessity for keeping cool, for
loading and reloading, for aiming and firing, for beating them off at
close quarters--all this so occupied one's mind, and still more one's
hands, that one couldn't find room for any personal terrors. "They
are breaking over there!" "They will overpower us yonder!" "They are
faltering now!" Those thoughts were so uppermost in one's head, and
one's arms were so alert, that only after the enemy gave way, and began
to run at full pelt, could a man find breathing-space to think of his
own safety. Then the thought occurred to me, "I have been through my
first fight, and come out of it alive; after all, I was a deal less
afraid than I expected!"

That took but a second, however. Next instant, awaking to the altered
circumstances, we were after them at full speed; accompanying them on
their way back to their kraals in the uplands with a running fire as a
farewell attention.

As we broke laager in pursuit of them, by the uncertain starlight we saw
a sight which made us boil with indignation. A mounted man turned and
fled before them. He seemed their leader, unseen till then. He was
dressed like a European--tall, thin, unbending, in a greyish-white suit.
He rode a good horse, and sat it well; his air was commanding, even as
he turned and fled in the general rout from that lost battle.

I seized Colebrook's arm, almost speechless with anger. "The white man!"
I cried. "The traitor!"

He did not answer a word, but with a set face of white rage loosed his
horse from where it was tethered among the waggons. At the same moment,
I loosed mine. So did Doolittle. Quick as thought, but silently, we led
them out all three where the laager was broken. I clutched my mare's
mane, and sprang to the stirrup to pursue our enemy. My sorrel b