drink
before you start."

"Thanks awfully, Blachland, I've just had one. Good-bye, old chap,
don't bother to come to the stable. Good-bye."

The other took a side glance at his retreating guest.

"He's flurried," he said to himself. "These callow cubs don't know how
to play the game. They do give it away so--give it away with both
hands."

Then he went on tranquilly with what he was doing. He did not even go
to the gate to see Spence off. He simply took him at his word. In
social matters, Hilary Blachland was given to taking people at their
word. If they didn't know their own minds, not being infants or
imbeciles, that wasn't his affair.

Then his thoughts were diverted into another channel, and this was
effected by the sight of Hlangulu. The Matabele was standing around,
lending a hand here or there whenever he saw an opportunity. For some
reason of his own he seemed anxious to be kept on there. That he would
be of no use at all as a farm servant was obvious, equally so that he
had no ambition to fill that _role_. The rather mysterious words he had
uttered could refer to but one thing; namely, the exceedingly dangerous
and apparently utterly profitless scheme talked over by the camp fire on
the Matya'mhlope, and which there could be no doubt whatever but that he
had overheard. That being so, was not Blachland indeed in this man's
power?

Turning it over in his mind, Blachland could see two sides to the
situation. Either Hlangulu designed to render him a service, and,
incidentally, one much greater to himself--or his intent was wholly
sinister, to set a trap for him to wit. He looked at Hlangulu. The
Matabele's aspect was not prepossessing. It was that of a tall, gaunt
native, with a sinister cast of countenance, never entirely free from
something of a scowl,--in fact, an evil and untrustworthy rascal if
appearances counted for anything at all. He tried to think whether he
had ever given this man cause to harbour a grudge against him, and could
recall nothing of the kind; but he did remember that Hlangulu was a
clever and skilful hunter. Perhaps, after all, he had really gained the
man's respect, and, to a certain extent, his attachment. He would keep
him, at any rate for a while, but--would watch him narrowly.

"Hlangulu," he called. "Go now and hurry on the herd of trade cattle.
It should have been done before this."

"_Nkose_!"

And with this one word of salute the man started on his