st as we reached it, Leblanc entered, clad in his shirt and trousers,
and was followed presently by Marie with a candle.

"What is it?" he asked.

I took the candle from Marie's hand, and set it on the floor close to
the wall, lest it should prove a target for an assegai or a bullet. Even
in those days the Kaffirs had a few firearms, for the most part captured
or stolen from white men. Then in a few words I told them all.

"And when did you learn all this?" asked Leblanc in French.

"At the Mission Station a little more than half an hour ago," I
answered, looking at my watch.

"At the station a little more than half an hour ago! Peste! it is not
possible. You dream or are drunken," he cried excitedly.

"All right, monsieur, we will argue afterwards," I answered. "Meanwhile
the Kaffirs are here, for I rode through them; and if you want to save
your life, stop talking and act. Marie, how many guns are there?"

"Four," she answered, "of my father's; two 'roers' and two smaller
ones."

"And how many of these men"--and I pointed to the Kaffirs--"can shoot?"

"Three well and one badly, Allan."

"Good," I said. "Let them load the guns with 'loopers'"--that is, slugs,
not bullets--"and let the rest stand in the passage with their assegais,
in case the Quabies should try to force the back door."

Now, in this house there were in all but six windows, one to each
sitting-room, one to each of the larger bedrooms, these four opening on
to the veranda, and one at either end of the house, to give light and
air to the two small bedrooms, which were approached through the larger
bedrooms. At the back, fortunately, there were no windows, for the stead
was but one room deep with passage running from the front to the back
door, a distance of little over fifteen feet.

As soon as the guns were loaded I divided up the men, a man with a gun
at each window. The right-hand sitting-room window I took myself with
two guns, Marie coming with me to load, which, like all girls in that
wild country, she could do well enough. So we arranged ourselves in
a rough-and-ready fashion, and while we were doing it felt quite
cheerful--that is, all except Monsieur Leblanc, who, I noticed, seemed
very much disturbed.

I do not for one moment mean to suggest that he was afraid, as he might
well have been, for he was an extremely brave and even rash man; but
I think the knowledge that his drunken act had brought this terrible
danger upon us all wei