“hallo! here’s a chap we’ve overlooked,” sang out dick, turning his horse. four troopers followed him. a little to the right of the pursuit a solitary kafir was standing, peering over a bush. as the five charged up to him, revolver in hand, he sank to the ground.

“no kill. i hit,” he said, in english. “hit bad—in the leg.”

there was no mistake about that. from a neat bullet-hole in the calf, blood was oozing. however, dismounting, the men kicked his assegai out of his reach.

“no kill,” repeated the fellow, spreading out his hands. “i tell you something—something you like hear.”

dick selmes, who, of course, had not the remotest intention of killing a wounded man, here assumed an aspect of the most merciless ferocity. he pointed his revolver at the kafir’s head.

“tell away,” he said. “if it’s not worth hearing, i’ll scatter your brains, by caesar’s ghost i will!”

“it worth hearing,” answered the other. “how you like take chief, eh?”

“chief? which chief?”

“vunisa. pahlandhle. two chief.”

“go on. only remember if you humbug us, then,—good-night.” and dick touched the helpless man’s head with the muzzle of his pistol, as an earnest of what was to come.

“you go on up dere,” went on the kafir. “two tree—kafir-boen—over rock. rock hang over hole—same as place where we take you. vunisa—pahlandhle—they hide there—wait till amapolise done killing kafir—then they get away. you take them same as we take you—easily.”

now dick selmes remembered. the voice, the face, came back to him. why, this was the english-speaking kafir who had ordered them to read the despatches, and had directed the torture of sandgate because they refused. had the fellow been armed, and fighting, he would have shot him with infinite satisfaction, as the recollection of that ghastly experience came back. but it was manifestly out of the question to shoot an unarmed and helpless man; besides, this one was giving him information which set all his blood tingling with the prospect of a glorious adventure—if it were true. if so, and it were carried out successfully, such a feat was bound to procure sure and rapid promotion to the four young police troopers with him.

“i know the spot he means, selmes,” said one of these, a colonial-born man, who understood veldt-craft and spoke the xosa language fluently. “and i think he’s very likely telling the truth.”

“oh, i tell truth,” said the wounded man. “dey not my chiefs—and pahlandhle eat up my cattle. i like to see him shot.”

“if you’ve told us a lie, that’s what you’ll be,” said dick, “you may take your oath upon that. we’ll come back for you, never fear.”

“oh, i not fear,” said the other, easily. “if you grab chiefs, i like to join police as ’tective. how that?”

“that’s for the commandant. but i expect he’ll take you on,” answered dick, airily. “come along, you chaps. we’ll bag these two, or not go back at all.”

“rather,” was the unanimous answer. as we have said, dick selmes was exceedingly popular in the force since he had been its guest. he put on no “side” whatever, and had shown rare pluck whenever opportunity for such had occurred. these four would have followed him anywhere; the more mad and dare-devil the adventure the better.

“now, sketchley, you must be guide,” he said to the colonial man. “if this fellow’s lying, of course we’ll come back and shoot him. here—what’s your name?”

“tolangubo. english—where i work before—call me john seapoint.”

the mist, which had lightened on the plain, still hung heavy on the higher ridges. this was all in their favour.

under the guidance of sketchley, the colonial-born trooper, they were not long in reaching their objective.

“we’ll leave the horses here,” said this man. “now—silence is the word, i need hardly say. you, simpson, you’re a clumsy beast, you know, but for heaven’s sake don’t kick so much as a little stone this time.”

the reply was a growling promise to punch the speaker’s head when all was over, and they started their stealthy climb. not long did it take, and then, at a word from sketchley, all halted for a hurried breather.

above was the lip of the hollow the kafir had described. there were the two trees overhanging—all corresponded exactly. but what if the said hollow were bristling with armed savages? what if they had walked into a palpable trap—was the thought that occurred to them now. tolangubo had not said that the two chiefs were alone, they now remembered; immediately consoling themselves with the thought that it would not have made much difference if he had.

with beating hearts the five peered over the ridge. there, not a hundred yards distant, squatted four kafirs. four. which of the two were the chiefs?

“that’s vunisa,” whispered dick selmes, excitedly. “i’d swear to him anywhere.”

but the whisper, faint though it was, reached the ears of the keen-witted savages. these sat bolt upright, listening. all four, with a subtle movement, reached for their arms; two for their rifles, the others for their assegais.

“that settles it,” breathed the colonial man. “the ones with the guns are the chiefs. now, we mustn’t give away the smallness of our force. let ’em think there’s a crowd behind. come on, now.”

the five advanced, covering the group with their revolvers.

“yield, chiefs!” cried sketchley, in the xosa tongue. “if a man moves he is shot.”

a man did move, making a sudden spring to get away. him sketchley promptly and unerringly shot dead. this told. the remaining three stood, sullenly awaiting events.

“drop your weapons, or you are all shot,” he went on.

the kafirs stared, and, believing him, sulkily obeyed.

“don’t quit covering them for a moment,” cried dick selmes. “i’ll go in, and tie them up.”

they had brought reims from their horses’ headstalls. with these dick now approached. there was no mistaking the chiefs. vunisa and pahlandhle were both elderly men of powerful build, the other was a mere boy. both seemed to treat the affair as entirely beneath their notice, and, making a virtue of necessity, submitted to have their arms bound behind them, in sullen silence, the while the police troopers were covering them effectually and at close quarters with their revolvers. but hardly had this operation been completed than the other, whom they had left to the last, with a spring and a rush disappeared into the mist, leaping and zigzagging to dodge the bullets which were fired after him.

“here’s a howling joke,” said trooper sketchley. “he isn’t touched, and now he’s gone to raise a rescue. those chaps’ll rally like the deuce to get back their chiefs.”

“will they?” said dick selmes, smart, alert, with the tingling sense of adventure. “come along then. we’ll wheel them back to camp before there’s time for any bother of that sort. the old commandant’ll look mighty surprised, i’ll bet.”

so these five hair-brained youngsters started off; shoving their august prisoners along at a pace which sorely tried the dignity of the latter. when they gained the lip of the hollow, sketchley gave a signal to halt.

the mist was all driving back, leaving one side of the hill bare. but this was by no means as it had been when they came up it. the stones and bushes, glistening with dew, were now alive with red-ochred forms, swift-moving, lithe, stealing upward; assegais and guns held ready in sinewy, eager grip. then, as the helmets of two careless troopers showed above the ridge, there was a sudden roaring discharge of firearms, and the vicious “whigge” overhead showed that the “pot-legs” and bullets were beginning to fly.

now these five were in a tight hole. the kafirs, rallying to the rescue of their chiefs, were coming on to storm that hill with a fixity of purpose which left nothing to be desired or to be hoped for. they reckoned on finding at least fifty men up there, and these were only five.

“a few more steps, and both chiefs will be shot,” sang out sketchley, in their own language.

but it seemed to stay the rush not at all. swarming through the bushes, they still kept on. in a minute or two they would rush the position.

“give them a volley!” yelled dick selmes.

this was done, but with scant effect.

slapping in their reloads, the men delivered another, this time with considerable effect, for it checked the advance. but the worst of it was that, further out, they could see more and more kafirs coming up to the support of these. then a shout went up.

“release the two chiefs, white men, and we will leave you.”

they looked at each other. what chance had they of holding their own against such odds—but on the other hand, could they trust the promises of the savages? this, in substance, sketchley called out in reply.

“au!” exclaimed pahlandhle, with some eagerness. “we you can trust. you are only a few foolish boys. let us go, and then you may go home yourselves. none of these will harm you.”

“none,” echoed vunisa, emphatically.

“well, and what do you all say?” asked sketchley, having translated this.

“i’ve got people at home,” said one of the troopers, meaningly.

“so have i,” declared another.

“let’s put it to the vote then,” went on sketchley. “it’s on the cards they’ll keep their word, and then we’ve had all this bother for nothing. otherwise, candidly, i don’t believe we’ve the ghost of a chance. now then?”

the two who had first spoken were for surrendering the chiefs. sketchley and the other trooper were against it.

“now then, selmes,” said the latter. “you’ve got the casting vote.”

dick was inclined to hold out, but what right had he to sacrifice these men’s lives? besides, had not he also “got people at home”? he wavered. then something occurred which decided him, decided them all. for just then the mist parted all round. a strong body of police, attracted by the firing, was swarming up the hill.

the answer of the besieged was another volley, this time with effect. all four shots told—one man had been left in charge of the captive chiefs, with revolver ready to shoot both dead in the event of their countrymen gaining a foothold on the ridge. then another volley with like effect. these young englishmen, you see, were now in the most dangerous position of all to their enemies—that of “cornered”—and they shot deadly, and cool. the original assailants, who, heartened by their reinforcements, had sprung up to renew the attack, now began to drop behind cover again.

“give ’em another!” yelled dick.

“no. wait till they show,” corrected sketchley. “no good lessening the wholesome scare they’ve got of us by blazing at stones.”

even as he spoke the savages became alive to this new turn of events, and reckoning they would soon be caught between two fires, were, with warning cries to each other, beginning to glide away. but between the two fires a good few were consumed before they managed to; for the shots from above were now coolly and carefully timed, and those from below, especially where harley greenoak got his foresight on to a brown red body, told with terror-striking effect. in a very few minutes there was not a kafir left on the hillside.

“hi! here! hullo, greenoak, here we are,” sung out dick selmes. “you’re just in time, but we’ve bagged the two chiefs. come along.”

they started back to camp without delay. just before reaching it, one of the four troopers, who was given to pessimism, remarked—

“old chambers’ll get all the kudos for to-day’s job. we shan’t.”

it may be said that in the event the speaker was wrong. the commandant was far too wise and too just a man to allow a meritorious service to go unrecognised. in the event, too, it transpired that these four had performed a very meritorious service indeed, and all of them, except one man who left the force, his time having expired, got promotion as soon as practicable.