“Well, Jack,” he said, shaking his head, “I didn’t think it of you—­I didn’t indeed.  A skunk like that! a woman-shooter, and a Frenchman!  You didn’t use to be like this.”

“We’re quits now, him and me,” answered Mills.  “He saved my life, and I’m satisfied.  So if you’ve got anything to say—­or do—­then get it over.”

Charley burst out at this in a fuss of anger.  “You ought to be shot,” he shouted.  “That’s all you’re fit for.”

“Charley’s right,” growled one of the others.

“Oh, cut it off,” cried Dave impatiently; “we’re not going to shoot Jack.  But I guess we won’t say we’ve lost the Frenchman yet.”

He lowered his brows and turned his eyes on Mills.

“You an’ him’s quits, Jack,” he said.  “What do you think about it?”

Mills looked up slowly, like a man newly awaked from a dream.

“You might get a shot at him from the path,” he answered musingly.  “That is, if he’s keeping north.  I’ll show you the place.”

“You don’t think we’d have a chance of catching him?”

“Not a ghost,” replied the trader decisively.  “Once you get into the kloof, he’s lost.  All you can do is wait till he breaks cover down below, an’ try a long shot.  By God!” he cried with sudden energy, “I’ll try a lick at him myself.  We’re quits now, the—­the woman-shooter!”

He snatched a rifle and led the way, the others tumbling after him.  Some hundred yards beyond the kraal the footpath dipped abruptly towards the valley, and at an angle of it there was to be gained a clear view of the bush beneath, where it surged at the foot of the hill and ran down the kloof; at the lower part of the kloof it ceased, and the ground was bare red earth for a space of some thousand yards.  Mills sat down on a stone.  Dave squatted beside him, and the others grouped themselves on adjacent boulders.

The sun was well into the sky by now—­it was about six o’clock in the morning.  The air was of diamond, and the chill of the night had already passed.  The men glued their eyes on the bare patch and waited.

“Funny game you played up there,” whispered Dave to the trader.

Mills nodded without speaking.

“I’m not blaming you,” continued the other.  “I reckon I understand, old boy.  But are you goin’ to shoot at him?”

“I am that,” was the reply.

“Well, I hope you get him,” said Dave.  “The chaps’ll forget the other business then.  They didn’t like it, you know—­nobody would.”

“It’s not because I care for them or what they think——­” began Mills.

“I know it’s not,” interrupted Dave.  “You know all the ranges, I suppose?”

“Nine hundred yards to that black spot,” said Mills.  “The spot’s a bit of a hole in the ground.  Twelve hundred to the big boulder.”