"Certainly, certainly!" said Peter, eyeing the stranger's dress carefully,
still holding his gun, but with the hand off the lock. "I'm confoundedly
glad of any company. It's a beastly night for anyone to be out alone.
Wonder you find your way. Sit down! sit down!" Peter looked intently at
the stranger; then he put his gun down at his side.

The stranger sat down on the opposite side of the fire. His complexion was
dark; his arms and feet were bronzed; but his aquiline features, and the
domed forehead, were not of any South African race.

"One of the Soudanese Rhodes brought with him from the north, I suppose?"
said Peter, still eyeing him curiously.

No; Cecil Rhodes has had nothing to do with my coming here," said the
stranger.

"Oh--" said Peter. "You didn't perhaps happen to come across a company of
men today, twelve white men and seven coloured, with three cart loads of
provisions? We were taking them to the big camp, and I got parted from my
troop this morning. I've not been able to find them, though I've been
seeking for them ever since."

The stranger warmed his hands slowly at the fire; then he raised his head:-
-"They are camped at the foot of those hills tonight," he said, pointing
with his hand into the darkness at the left. "Tomorrow early they will be
here, before the sun has risen."

"Oh, you've met them, have you!" said Peter joyfully; "that's why you
weren't surprised at finding me here. Take a drop!" He took the small