kept a respectful distance. Men in pairs took turn in
keeping watch, their comrades lying wrapped in blankets, with their
feet towards the fire, each with his loaded rifle by his side.

After a good meal, consisting of roast goat's-flesh, millet bread and
hot chocolate, the trek was resumed, the Haussa following the spoor
with the sagacity and skill of a sleuth-hound until it was light enough
to enable the Rhodesians to follow up the trail.

After a distance of five miles had been covered the patrol halted in
perplexity, for, seemingly from nowhere another spoor joined that of
the one they were following. There were distinct imprints of two men
walking--one wearing veldt-schoen, the other the heavy marching boot
supplied to the German colonial units.

The latter was of slightly recent origin, as witnessed by the fact that
here and there the footprints of the boots had partly obliterated those
of the veldt-schoen.

"It strikes me we've only just tumbled on the right spoor," declared a
Rhodesian. "Of the two I should imagine von Gobendorff was wearing
military boots. I suppose you didn't happen to notice what he wore
while he was attached to the Waffs?"

"Boots and gaiters," replied Wilmshurst. "But, of course, that was
some time ago."

"And boots are scarce in this show," rejoined the other tentatively.
"When a man gets used to wearing a certain pair he's not likely to
discard them in a hurry. I'll bet that is von Gobendorff's trail."

"And the other?" asked Dudley.

"A nigger might be wearing veldt-schoen," suggested another Rhodesian.
"Perhaps he looted them, and in his natural vanity, decided to put them
on instead of slinging them round his neck. In my experience I find
that a native 'boy' will wear veldt-schoen, but he'll draw the line at
boots."

"In any case," remarked Wilmshurst, "the two spoors lead the same way,
so we'll carry on."

Half a mile further the tracks separated, the older ones continuing
straight on, those of the boots breaking away to the left.

After a brief debate the pursuers decided to follow the latter spoor.
This they followed for another four miles until it vanished on an
expanse of hard, sun-baked ground.

"We're close to the Kiwa," announced one of the patrol, who had pushed
on ahead for fifty yards. "There's a kraal over yonder, and I can see
the water between the trees."

Into the native village the pursuers rode, to hear a tale of woe from
the headman. An arme