hen, reflecting that these were doubtless caused
by some night-walking creature, which, even should it chance to be
dangerous, would flee at the approach of man, I plunged into it boldly.
As I emerged at the other end--the shadow was eighteen or twenty paces
long--it occurred to me that if any enemy were lurking there, I should
be an easy target as I entered the line of clear light. So, almost
instinctively, for I do not remember that I reasoned the thing out,
after my first two steps forward in the light I gave a little spring to
the left, where there was still shadow, although it was not deep. Well
was it for me that I did so, for at that moment I felt something touch
my cheek and heard the loud report of a gun immediately behind me.

Now, the wisest course would have been for me to run before whoever
had fired found time to reload. But a kind of fury seized me, and run I
would not. On the contrary, I turned with a shout, and charged back into
the shadow. Something heard me coming, something fled in front of me. In
a few seconds we were out into the moonlight beyond, and, as I expected,
I saw that this something was a man--Pereira!

He halted and wheeled round, lifting the stock of his gun, club fashion.

"Thank God! it is you, Heer Allan," he said; "I thought you were a
tiger."

"Then it is your last thought, murderer," I answered, raising my rifle.

"Don't shoot," he said. "Would you have my blood upon you? Why do you
want to kill me?"

"Why did you try to kill me?" I answered, covering him.

"I try to kill you! Are you mad? Listen, for your own sake. I sat down
on the bank yonder waiting for the moon, and, being tired, fell asleep.
Then I woke up with a start, and, thinking from the sounds that a tiger
was after me, fired to scare it. Allemachte! man, if I had aimed at you,
could I have missed at that distance?"

"You did not quite miss, and had I not stepped to the left, you would
have blown my head off. Say your prayers, you dog!"

"Allan Quatermain," he exclaimed with desperate energy, "you think I
lie, who speak the truth. Kill me if you will, only then remember that
you will hang for it. We court one woman, that is known, and who will
believe this story of yours that I tried to shoot you? Soon the Kaffirs
will come to look for me, probably they are starting already, and will
find my body with your bullet in my heart. Then they will take it back
to Marais's camp, and I say--who will believe your story?