"Now, Foster, turn us on some skoff right away," said Lamont; "and we don't want to wait for it, either, at least not any longer than it takes to have a tub. Meanwhile, a bottle of your Perrier-Jouet. Here you are, Ancram," when this had been opened. "Dip your beak into this. It'll buck you up, and, by the Lord, you want it!" "Any news of the scare--anything fresh, that is?" asked the hotel-keeper, eyeing them curiously. These men had been through no ordinary experience, he could see that, but as yet they had told nothing. "Well, rather. I'll tell you presently. Have you a boy handy, Foster? I want to send a note quick to Orwell." On a half-sheet of notepaper he wrote hurriedly--laconically-- "Farm attacked by Matabele, and blown up. Peters, Ancram, and self escaped--have just come in. Went to warn Tewson, found whole family massacred. Saw impi this morning, heading as though towards Kezane Store. Warn Isard, and take precautions. "Lamont." This he folded and addressed to the Resident Magistrate, and the boy was started off at once. "I've a bit of good news for you, Mr Lamont," said Foster, as the latter returned--tubbed, and to that extent refreshed--to begin upon the much needed food. "That _rooi-schimmel_ horse you left with Greene the day you were in for the race meeting--well, he's all right again now. Greene brought him in couple of days back, and there isn't an atom of lameness about him." "That's good news indeed, for it strikes me there's plenty of work sticking out for him." They had just finished breakfast, and were enjoying the luxury of an excellent cigar when Orwell arrived. He was in a great state of excitement, and glanced meaningly in the direction of Foster, but this the hotel-keeper pretended not to see. He was all on thorns to hear the news himself, for that news there was--great and grave--he felt sure. "Is this a fact, Lamont?" began Orwell, producing the slip of paper. "Good Lord, man, but the whole country must be in a blaze!" "So it must. By the way, Orwell, of course you've got that laager all fixed up by this time." "Er, well--no--the fact is we have been planning it out, and--er--" "You haven't got it up yet? Well, if you'll take my advice you'll set about it at once. It isn't a case of `another of Lamont's scares' this time," he added, with somewhat excusable bitterness. "By the way, Foster, you might bring us another bottle of the same. Oh, and you'll join us again." "Thanks. But, Mr Lamont, for God's sake, say what _has_ happened. We are a trifle interested too, as well as our officials, and I, for one, have got a wife and family into the bargain." The hotel-keeper was a very good fellow, and he and Lamont liked each other. Said the latter-- "Quite right, Foster. Fetch the liquid first and then you shall hear all about it. It's time everyone knew, but I don't want to create a panic. One of `Lamont's scares.'" Orwell looked rather foolish.