ok of
disgust. "Wives. I've only two of 'em at present--I've had lots in my
time--and I shall have to lick one of 'em for this, too."

"You seemed rather--well, rough on your brother-in-law," answered
Wyvern, with a sneer he could no longer repress.

"You've got to be. Look here, Wyvern," waxing familiar, "I take it
you're one of them raw, out from home Britishers who think the way to
_baas_ niggers is to soft sawder them. You may take it from me then
that it ain't. Oh, Joe there'll tell you exactly the same for that
matter."

"Is he a Zulu?" with a jerk of the hand in the direction of the
vanishment of the licked one.

"Zulu? Not much. He's a Swazi."

"I wonder you're not afraid of them poisoning you."

"Look here. What the devil d'you mean?"

The man's face had gone a sort of dirty ash colour. He sat glowering at
Wyvern with evil eyes. The latter thought he saw the gnarled dirty hand
which held the bridle-rein shake--and it may have done so, for it may
have been that a refrain was sounding in this ruffian's ears: "The
Snake-doctor--_whau_! his _muti_ is great and subtle!"

"What I said. And now look here," went on Wyvern very stern and
decisive, "I suppose I can't interfere in your domestic affairs, if only
that it would make things worse for the poor wretches afterwards. But I
don't choose to be present at any woman-thrashing performance--black or
white. So I'll wish you good-bye."

The sudden fury that came into the man's forbidding face was rather
terrific. Then as suddenly it faded out.

"Hang it, Wyvern, couldn't you see that I was only humbugging. That
young rip had to be taught a lesson, but you didn't suppose I was really
going to whack a girl, did you? Bully Rawson has his faults, but no one
can say he ain't soft-hearted at bottom. Why, I wouldn't do such a
thing for the world."

Wyvern did not exactly believe this; still he felt sure that the
threatened chastisement would not now take place. And Fleetwood had
made no move towards actively supporting him, and his rule of being
guided by Fleetwood still held.

"I should hope not," he answered, but rather shortly, riding on with
them again.

"Why, of course not Man alive, but you mustn't take everything we say up
here as serious. Eh, Joe?" returned Rawson, with huge geniality. "Now
we'll go inside and have another drink and then I want to show you my
wood-cutting place."

If it be imagined for a moment that the speaker had