you?" he asked, and his tone denoted not the least surprise that
Mohammed Beyd had suddenly discovered such remarkably sensitive
characteristics.

"I shall go alone," replied Werper, and he passed on and out through
the narrow opening in the boma, by which the sentry stood.

A moment later he had entered among the boles of the trees with
his burden, and when safely hidden from the sentry's view lowered
the girl to her feet, with a low, "sh-sh," when she would have
spoken.

Then he led her a little farther into the forest, halted beneath a
large tree with spreading branches, buckled a cartridge belt and
revolver about her waist, and assisted her to clamber into the
lower branches.

"Tomorrow," he whispered, "as soon as I can elude them, I will
return for you. Be brave, Lady Greystoke--we may yet escape."

"Thank you," she replied in a low tone. "You have been very kind,
and very brave."

Werper did not reply, and the darkness of the night hid the scarlet
flush of shame which swept upward across his face. Quickly he
turned and made his way back to camp. The sentry, from his post,
saw him enter his own tent; but he did not see him crawl under
the canvas at the rear and sneak cautiously to the tent which the
prisoner had occupied, where now lay the dead body of Mohammed
Beyd.