As we reached the outlying trees of the wood the first Basuto, a lank fellow with a mouth like a rat trap, arrived and threw an assegai at us which passed between Anscombe’s back and my nose.  Then he closed and tried to stab with another assegai.  I could do nothing, but Anscombe showed himself cleverer than I expected.  Dropping the reins, he drew his pistol and managed to send a bullet through that child of nature’s head, so that he went down like a stone.

“And you tell me I am a bad shot,” he drawled.

“It was a fluke,” I gasped, for even in these circumstances truth would prevail.

“Wait and you’ll see,” he replied, re-cocking the revolver.

As a matter of fact there was no need for more shooting, since at the verge of the swamp the Basutos pulled up.  I do not think that the death of their companion caused them to do this, for they seemed to take no notice of him.  It was as though they had reached some boundary which they knew it would not be lawful for them to pass.  They simply stopped, took the dead man’s assegai and shield from the body and walked quietly back towards the wagon, leaving him where he lay.  The horse stopped also, or rather proceeded at a walk.

“There!” exclaimed Anscombe.  “Did I not tell you I had a presentiment that I should kill a man in this accursed wood?”

“Yes,” I said as soon as I had recovered my breath, “but you mixed up a woman with the matter and I don’t see one.”

“That’s true,” he replied, “I hope we shan’t meet her later.”

Then we went on as quickly as we could, which was not very fast, for I feared lest the Basutos should change their minds and follow us.  As the risk of this became less our spirits rose, since if we had lost the wagon and the oxen, at least we had saved our lives, which was almost more than we could have expected in the circumstances.  At last we came to that glade where we had killed the wildebeeste not a week before.  There lay its skeleton picked clean by the great brown kites that frequent the bush-veld, some of which still sat about in the trees.

“Well, I suppose we must go on to Tampel,” said Anscombe rather faintly, for I could see that his wound was giving him a good deal of pain.

As he spoke from round the tree whence he had first emerged, appeared Mr. Marnham, riding the same horse and wearing the same clothes.  The only difference between his two entries was that the first took place in the late evening and the second in the early morning.

“So here you are again,” he said cheerfully.

“Yes,” I answered, “and it is strange to meet you at the same spot.  Were you expecting us?”

“Not more than I expect many things,” he replied with a shrewd glance at me, adding, “I always rise with the sun, and thinking that I heard a shot fired in the distance, came to see what was happening.  The Basutos attacked you at daybreak, did they not?”