Prester John

s I have said, I was really scared, more out of a sense of impotence than from dread of actual danger. I was in a fog of uncertainty. Things were happening around me which I could only diml

y some notice would be taken of that. If I was given the post, Colles was bound to consider what I had said in my

a native on the roads, and none came into the store. They were sticking close to their locations, or else they had gone after some distant business. Except a batch of three S

re simply hotching with them. I was being spied on as before, but now there were so many at the business that they could not all conceal their tracks. Every now and then I had a glimpse of a black shoulder or leg,

bly connected with the Rooirand. But when I had ridden in that direction and had spent two days in exploring, no one had troubled to watch me. I was quite certain ab

s I was going into native country and away from civilization. But Blaauwildebeestefontein was near the frontier. There must be some dark business brewing of which they may have feared that I had an inkling. They wanted to see if I proposed to go to Piete

main road. If I was right, I should certainly be stopped. On second thoughts, however, this seeme

necessity of presenting a brave face to Mr Wardlaw, who was by this time in a very broken condition of nerves. I had often thought that it was my duty to advise him to leave, and to see him safely off, but I shrank f

y tone, and set to posting up the books as if he had never misbehaved in his days. I was so busy with my thoughts t

y waistcoat behind the counter, and started to go back for it. But at t

in the cut of his jib struck me as familiar. I slipped into the empty schoolroom and stared hard. Then, as he half-turned in handing his brid

riques knew my face, for I had grown no beard, having a great dislike to needless hair. If he was one of the villains in the drama, he would mark me down for his vengeance once he knew I

and dry some distance each way in full view of the Kaffir with the horses. Further, the store stood on a bare patch,

legs. He was standing by the counter, and apparently talking to Japp. He moved to shut the door, and came back inside my focus opposite the window. There he s

n. This was more than I could stand, so I stole out at the back door and took to the thickest bush on the hillside. My notion was to cross the road half a m

ut ten yards off it, when the clatter of horses pulled me up again. Peeping out I saw that it was my friend and his Kaffir follower, who were riding at a very good pace for

ankly enough in the face. 'Yes, it was Mr Hendricks,' he said, and explained that the man was a Portuguese trader from Delagoa way, who had

calls into your bedroom, a

ther. I see you suspect me, and maybe you've cause, but I'll be quite honest with you. I have dealt in diamonds before this with Hendricks. But to-day, wh

t I was convinced that in this case he spok

and when I told him "yes," he said I had put it off rather long. I told him I was as healthy as I ever was, and he laughed in his dirty Portugoose way. "Yes

nted to some great secret approaching its disclosure. I thought that that disclosure meant blood and ruin. But I knew nothing definite. If the commander of a British army had come to me then and there and offered help, I could have done nothing, only asked him to wait like me. The peril, whatever it was, did not threaten me only, though I and Wardlaw and Japp might be the first to suffer; but I had a terrible feeling that I alone

ke a great ship above the dark green sea of the bush. When we reached the edge of the plateau we saw the sun sinking between two far blue peaks in Makapan's country, and away to the south the great roll of the high veld. I longed miserably for the places where white men were thronged together in dorps and cities. As we gazed a curious sound struck our ears. It seemed to begin far up in the north-a low roll like the combing of breakers on the sand. Then it grew louder and travell

e drums were beating, passing some message from the far north down the line of the

ns war,' Mr W

their way of sending news. It's as likely to be some c

ith a face like grey paper. 'Di

shortly. 'Wh

ly once heard before. It was in '79 in the 'Zeti valley. Do you know what happened next day? Cetewayo's impis came over the

hen, and must wait on Hi

our weapons, and trusted to Colin to give us early news. Before supper I went over to get Japp to join us, but found that

native rising, and I kept telling myself how little that was probable. Where were the arms, the leader, the discipline? At any rate such arguments put me to sleep before dawn, and I wakened at eight to find that nothing had happened. The clear morning sunlight, as of old, made Blaauwildebees

vate letter for me. I opened it with great excitement, for the envel

ith the signature of Colles across the top. B

[1] are chan

imself, then shut up the store, and went back

g was in a different hand. My deduction from this was that some one wished to send me a message, and that Colles had given that some one

ust have told him that I was awake to some danger, and as I was in Blaauwildebeestefontein, I must be nearer the heart of thing

w that scribble had heartened me. I felt no more the crushing isolation of yesterday. There wer

was a Cape Colony one, and of the mark I could only read three letters, T. R. S. This was no sort of clue, and I turned the thing over, completely baffled. Then I noticed that there was no mark of the post town of delivery. Our

old envelope. There was only one way in which it could have come. It must have been put in the letter-bag while the postman was on his way from Pietersdorp. My unknown friend must therefore

I had kept all my knowledge to myself, and breathed not a word to a soul. But I thought it my duty to tell Wardlaw about the letter, to let him see that we were not for

ously for the sound of drums. It came, as we expected, louder and more menacing than before. Wardlaw stood pinching my arm as the great tattoo swept down the escarpment, and died away in the far mountains beyond the Olifants. Yet it no lo

pecies