eters to be, should care twopence for the frown or smile of a
fellow like Lamont, whom he himself had seen show the white feather on
an occasion when there was the least possible excuse of all for it--
indeed, he wished he himself had been at hand at the time, instead of
arriving on the scene just after the rescue had been effected? Yet,
somehow, there was something very solid, very square, about this, as
even he realised, involuntary host of his, sitting there the very
embodiment of self-possession, devil-may-care-ishness, even masterful
dominance. It did not fit in, somehow, with that scene in the falling
dusk, by the frozen mere at Courtland, on Christmas Eve.

"But," he persisted, "do you really and seriously mean, Lamont, that if
these chaps were to break out to-night they would cut all our throats?"

"Really and seriously, Ancram. But didn't I tell you that the great god
Chance was a ruling factor up here? You'll soon tumble to his little
ways. Here--try some of this Magaliesburg," pushing a large two-pound
bag towards him.

"Er--thanks. I think I'll stick to my mixture. The fellows at Pagadi
gave me some of that the other night, and I didn't care for it."

"Oh, that'll pass. You'll soon not look at anything else," chipped in
Peters briskly, filling his own pipe. He had sized up the new-comer as
being very raw, very green. But then he had seen plenty such before.
Suddenly he sat bolt upright, listening intently.

"D'you hear that, Lamont?" he said eagerly.

"Yes," was the answer, after a moment of careful listening.

"Why--what--what is it?" broke in Ancram, and there was a note of scare
in his voice. In the light of their previous conversation it must be at
least the Matabele war-cry, he decided.

"There it is again," said Peters. "Did you hear?"

"Yes," answered Lamont. "You may be in luck's way yet, Ancram, and get
a shot at a lion. They are over there, in the Ramabana Forest, though
whether they'll be there still to-morrow is another thing. Let's get
outside and listen."

Ancram, to be candid with himself, would much rather have remained
inside. He had an idea that a lion might pounce upon him the moment he
set foot in the darkness outside.

In the soft velvet of the black sky a myriad of stars hung. So near did
they seem that the flash of flaming planets was even as the burning of
distant worlds. The ghostly stretch of veldt around was wrapped in
darkness and mystery, and from af