he recognised
presently the change from trees to bushes, when he rode out from the
thick ashes among the low hawthorns, and knew that he was within a mile
or so of the South Barrier at home! Already he heard the song of the
nightingale, the long note which at night penetrates so far; the
nightingale, which loves the hawthorn and the neighbourhood of man.
Imperceptibly he increased the speed again; the horse, too, knew that he
was nearing home, and responded willingly.

The track was much broader and fairly good, but he knew that at one spot
where it was marshy it must be cut up. There he went at the side, almost
brushing a projecting maple bush. Something struck the horse, he fancied
the rebound of a bough; he jumped, literally jumped, like a buck, and
tore along the road. With one foot out of the stirrup, it was with the
utmost difficulty he stuck to his seat; he was not riding, but holding
on for a moment or two. Presently recovering from the jolt, he
endeavoured to check him, but the bit was of no avail; the animal was
beside himself with terror, and raced headlong till they reached the
barrier. It was, of course, closed, and the warder was asleep; so that,
until he dismounted, and kicked and shouted, no one challenged him.

Then the warder, spear in hand, appeared with his lantern, but
recognising the voice, ran to the gate. Within the gate a few yards
there were the embers of a fire, and round it a bivouac of footmen who
had been to the feast, and had returned thus far before nightfall.
Hearing the noise, some of them arose, and came round him, when one
immediately exclaimed and asked if he was wounded. Felix replied that he
was not, but looking at his foot where the man pointed, saw that it was
covered with blood. But, upon close examination, there was no cut or
incision; he was not hurt. The warder now called to them, and showed a
long deep scratch on the near flank of the horse, from which the blood
was dripping.

It was such a scratch as might have been made with an iron nail, and,
without hesitation, they all put it down to a Bushman's spud. Without
doubt, the Bushman, hearing Felix approach, had hidden in the maple
bush, and, as he passed, struck with his nail-like dagger; but,
miscalculating the speed at which the horse was going, instead of
piercing the thigh of the rider, the blow fell on the horse, and the
sharp point was dragged along the side. The horse trembled as they
touched him.

"Sir," said on