Kafir under
the Masters and Servants Act if he gets a chance. It's just the same in
stock stealing cases. They ought to have put him into some Western
Province magistracy. A man like that has no business on the frontier."

"I blame myself mostly," went on the speaker. "I ought never to have
allowed a young feather-head like George to go out alone with a gun.
The only thing is, I have always believed in boys learning to shoot as
soon as possible in a country like this. Even girls ought to. Beryl
can."

"Rather," I said. "Haven't I seen evidence of that?"

Septimus Matterson was looking worn and ill, and very anxious. He had
been ailing for some days past, and this deplorable eventuality had not
exactly gone towards setting him up. I remembered Beryl's remark about
her father's life not being a "good" one, from an insurance point of
view, and felt more than anxious on his behalf.

"You are not looking at all well yourself," I said. "Now, don't let
this affair get on your mind too much. It'll all blow over, depend upon
it."

"Oh, I'm all right, Kenrick. Don't you worry about me. I suppose Beryl
has been filling you up with some of her coddling notions. She wants to
coddle me, the dear girl--always telling me to take care of myself; and
so on. I pretend to take it all in, of course. Hallo! Wait a
minute--" he broke off.

He went outside, returning directly with a field-glass.

"Quite a lot of them," he said, handing it to me after a look down the
kloof. "We shall have trouble over this, Kenrick, apart from any
cussedness Shattuck may spring on us. I wish Brian was back again."

So did I, as I stood with the glass to my eyes. For a number of Kafirs
were coming up the kloof, some mounted but most on foot--the latter
coming along at a swinging trot to keep pace with the horsemen. And
that there might be no doubt as to their hostile intent, I could see
that all carried a couple of business-like kerries apiece, and not a few
of them assegais as well.

"Hadn't we better arm ourselves and barricade the house?" I suggested.

"No, no. We mustn't seem afraid of them. Still, there's no harm in
dropping a revolver into our right hand pockets, in case of accidents.
We'll talk to them here."

We went inside and quickly loaded a revolver apiece. At a word from her
father Beryl got down her own pistol, loaded it, and tranquilly pocketed
it. Poor little Iris was looking very scared, but was quite quiet