agony of terror, he cried out, "Who is there?"

And a voice replied in clear, slow English, "A friend."

Peter Halket almost let his gun drop, in the revulsion of feeling. The
cold sweat which anguish had restrained burst out in large drops on his
forehead; but he still knelt holding his gun.

"What do you want?" he cried out quiveringly.

From the darkness at the edge of the kopje a figure stepped out into the
full blaze of the firelight.

Trooper Peter Halket looked up at it.

It was the tall figure of a man, clad in one loose linen garment, reaching
lower than his knees, and which clung close about him. His head, arms, and
feet were bare. He carried no weapon of any kind; and on his shoulders
hung heavy locks of dark hair.

Peter Halket looked up at him with astonishment. "Are you alone?" he
asked.

"Yes, I am alone."

Peter Halket lowered his gun and knelt up.

"Lost your way, I suppose?" he said, still holding his weapon loosely.

"No; I have come to ask whether I may sit beside your fire for a while."