ers, and he felt almost
affectionately disposed towards his defaulting mount, as he topped the
last neck, and looked down upon Kwabulazi.

What was this? The place was all alive with people. The tents of
several waggons showed up white in the evening glow, and as he drew
nearer he could see a number of men digging for all they were worth.
They were making entrenchments. The place had gone into laager, then.
His father and sister would be there, and safe. After his own
experience he was filled with unutterable relief and thankfulness as he
realised this.

Several of the surrounding farmers had gathered here with their families
for mutual defence, and an outlying storekeeper or two, and all hands
were turning to with a will to bank up an adequate breastwork. Within
this the waggons, together with boxes and bales, should form an inner
line of defence. There was a lull in the work as Hyland rode up.

"Dashed if it isn't young Thornhill!" said one--an old man with a bushy
grizzled beard.

"Dashed if it isn't old Seth Curtis," responded Hyland, coolly.

"Well that's a damned respectful way to talk to a man old enough to be
your father," growled the other.

"Old enough to be, but thank God he isn't. I'm quite content with the
one I've got," answered Hyland shortly. He was not inclined to be
cordial towards the speaker, or towards anyone there. He resented the
attitude the neighbours had taken up towards his father, and didn't care
how much they knew it. "Where is he, by the way?"

There was no answer. A sort of blankness came over the group which had
gathered. Each looked at the other. Hyland felt his face growing white
and cold. His fists instinctively clenched.

"Can't some idiot answer?" he snarled savagely, glaring at the blank
faces, with a murderous longing to run `amok' and dash his fists in to
them all. Then a girl's voice sounded forth clear and full.

"Why--it's Hyland."

"Edala--where is he?" was the first question in the midst of a hurried
embrace. "Not killed?"

"No--not that."

"What then? Wounded?"

"No. But--they've got him."

"Good God!"

"Come with me and I'll tell you all about it quietly," and she led him
to Elvesdon's house where she and Evelyn had taken up their quarters.
The latter's presence he hardly noticed as he acknowledged their
introduction mechanically. Then Edala gave him all particulars of the
semi-tragic termination to Tongwana's war-dance.

"Why the pe