er a bit of a wrangle with the Court
interpreter as to the exact shade of meaning which the order to move on
would or would not bear in the native vernacular, fastened upon two
points in cross-examination. One was the distance between the slayer
and slain, but there was no room for doubt here. He was on the top of
the cliff while they were beneath it. But it was not a high one. How
high? As high as the Court room?--Higher, perhaps twice as high.
Obviously any one shooting at that short distance would be shooting to
kill, not merely to frighten. Even a boy who was accustomed to
firearms, like George was, and however careless, could be under no
mistake on that head. This to dispose of any idea that he had intended
merely to "pepper" the deceased without intent seriously to wound.

The other point upon which our attorney harped was the demeanour of the
accused. Was he angry when he ordered them away?--Yes. He said they
were spoiling his hunt. Did they seriously think he meant to shoot them
when he threatened to?--Well, they didn't know. But if anybody points a
gun at you and you think he means to shoot you, you don't stand still
and laugh at him?--_Whau_! They hadn't thought of it in that light.
No, they supposed he had not intended to shoot. Then it had been an
accident?--Yes, they supposed so.

All this was put by Pyle to the witnesses in due order, and they were
unanimous in their answers. Pyle was radiant. During the slight
commotion of finding the next witness he leaned back and whispered to
us--

"He'll be discharged. Even Shattuck can't send him for trial on top of
that admission."

All the same, we were not quite so sure.

Then was led a good deal of Kafir evidence, that of parents and other
relatives of the dead boys, but this dealt mainly with identification,
and was of little or no value for or against our side. It was tediously
drawn out too by reason of the interpreting, and was not completed by
the time the Court adjourned for lunch.

"Buck up, old chap," said Pyle, going over to poor George, who was not
allowed to leave with us. "Buck up. You'll be having it with your
governor next grub time."

"Thanks, Mr Pyle, but I don't believe I shall," was the doleful reply
as he was taken into the chief constable's room to devour some
sandwiches which Beryl had sent him.

As we passed out of the dingy hall into the glare of the sunlight, the
contrast was a relief. It was good to be out in