had seen a resurrection.

'I had better introduce myself,' he said, when he had taken the edge
off his thirst and hunger. 'My name is Arcoll, Captain James Arcoll.
I am speaking to Mr Crawfurd, the storekeeper, and Mr Wardlaw, the
schoolmaster, of Blaauwildebeestefontein. Where, by the way, is Mr
Peter Japp? Drunk? Ah, yes, it was always his failing. The quorum,
however, is complete without him.'

By this time it was about sunset, and I remember I cocked my ear to
hear the drums beat. Captain Arcoll noticed the movement as he noticed
all else. 'You're listening for the drums, but you won't hear them.
That business is over here. To-night they beat in Swaziland and down
into the Tonga border. Three days more, unless you and I, Mr Crawfurd,
are extra smart, and they'll be hearing them in Durban.'

It was not till the lamp was lit, the fire burning well, and the house
locked and shuttered, that Captain Arcoll began his tale.

'First,' he said, 'let me hear what you know. Colles told me that you
were a keen fellow, and had wind of some mystery here. You wrote him
about the way you were spied on, but I told him to take no notice.
Your affair, Mr Crawfurd, had to wait on more urgent matters. Now,
what do you think is happening?' I spoke very shortly, weighing my
words, for I felt I was on trial before these bright eyes. 'I think
that some kind of native rising is about to commence.'

'Ay,' he said dryly, 'you would, and your evidence would be the spying
and drumming. Anything more?'

'I have come on the tracks of a lot of I.D.B. work in the
neighbourhood. The natives have some supply of diamonds, which they
sell bit by bit, and I don't doubt but they have been getting guns with
the proceeds.'

He nodded, 'Have you any notion who has been engaged in the job?'

I had it on my tongue to mention Japp, but forbore, remembering my
promise. 'I can name one,' I said, 'a little yellow Portugoose, who
calls himself Henriques or Hendricks. He passed by here the day before
yesterday.'

Captain Arcoll suddenly was consumed with quiet laughter. 'Did you
notice the Kaffir who rode with him and carried his saddlebags? Well,
he's one of my men. Henriques would have a fit if he knew what was in
those saddlebags. They contain my change of clothes, and other odds
and ends. Henriques' own stuff is in a hole in the spruit. A handy
way of getting one's luggage sent on, eh? The bags are waiting for me
at a place I appo