trees, or so they judged from his cautious movements.

"White man!" said Jeekie, and Alan nodded.

They crept forward silently and with care, for who knew what this white
man might be after, keeping a great tree between them and the man, till
at length, passing round its bole, they found themselves face to face
with him and not five yards away. Notwithstanding his unaccustomed
tropical dress and his face burnt copper colour by the sun, Alan knew
the man at once.

"Aylward!" he gasped; "Aylward! You here?"

He started. He stared at Alan. Then his countenance changed. Its
habitual calm broke up as it was wont to do in moments of deep emotion.
It became very evil, as though some demon of hate and jealousy were at
work behind it. The thin lips quivered, the eyes glared, and without
spoken word or warning, he lifted the rifle and fired straight at Alan.
The bullet missed him, for the aim was high. Passing over Alan's head,
it cut a neat groove through the hair of the taller Jeekie who was
immediately behind him.

Next instant, with a spring like that of a tiger Jeekie was on Aylward.
The weight of his charge knocked him backwards to the ground, and there
he lay, pinned fast.

"What for you do that?" exclaimed the indignant Jeekie. "What for you
shoot through wool of respectable nigger, Sir Robert Aylward, Bart.? Now
I throttle you, you dirty hog-swine. No Magistrates' Court here in Dwarf
Forest," and he began to suit the action to the word.