le of glee as the dull thud of the fallen carcase came
up from below, then turned--to find himself face to face with--
Thornhill.

The latter was standing some twelve or fifteen yards away, his right
hand in his right pocket. Ever quick of perception, the Zulu grasped
this fact and its significance. Instinctively he dropped into a half
crouching attitude--the attitude of a wild beast preparing for its
spring--and the grip of the broad assegai beneath his blanket tightened.

"No use, Manamandhla. You would be dead before you had taken five
steps."

The Zulu knew this. Even were it otherwise he had no wish for the
other's death--not just yet, at any rate. It was more profitable to
himself to keep him alive. But for the moment he felt like a cornered
animal, quick, desperate, dangerous.

"One of the beasts has gone over, Inqoto," he said. "I would have
prevented it, but when I tried to drive it back I drove it over instead.
It is a pity."

"It is. You were in want of beef, I think, Manamandhla," was the
answer, faintly mocking.

"_Whau_! Inqoto has not a very open hand, and I was tired of goat.
There are `mouths' on this mountain that do not return that which--those
whom--they swallow. But there is one which can be got into by men with
long lines. And--what would they find? Ah--ah! What would they find?"

The Zulu felt secure now, and yet, had he only known it, he had never
stood in more deadly peril in his life. Thornhill had been waiting for
some such chance as this and now it had come. For, from the moment he
had arrived unobserved upon the scene all its opportunities had flashed
upon his mind. The Zulu had deliberately driven one of his cattle over
the krantz, and on being detected in the act had rushed upon him with an
assegai; for he could pretty shrewdly guess what the other held
concealed beneath the blanket. He had shot his assailant dead, in self
defence, as he had no other alternative than to do. Thus he would be
rid of this incubus, this blackmailer, and once more would be at peace.
The time and opportunity had come.

Manamandhla must have read his thoughts. Hard and desperately, yet with
the quickness of lightning, he was calculating his chances. A sudden
zig-zagging spring might cause his enemy to miss, and he would be upon
him before he had time to fire again. The two--the white man and the
dark man--thus stood fronting each other in the spectral wreaths of the
drear mist, each