This was a fact, but not an accident. Peters, ever watchful where his idolised friend was concerned, had gathered together quite a crowd, a little way apart, and was clearly regaling it with abundant humour-- which he possessed--and this with the sole intent that these two should have a little time together uninterrupted. "Yes, he can be very entertaining," said Clare. "And I like him so much. Do you know, darling, he simply adores you." "I know he does his level best to make me beastly conceited." "He told me how you risked your life to save his during the retreat on the Shangani." "Did he, confound him! Then it was a distinct act of mutiny, for he's under strict orders to let that well-worn chestnut be forgotten. I'll have him put under arrest for disobedience to orders, since by popular vote I seem to have been put in command here." "But you weren't in command here when he told me, so you can't come down upon him. How's that?" and she laughed brightly. "In that case I suppose I can't," he allowed, rejoicing greatly that she had shaken off her vein of depression. "But you know, dearest, that sort of thing was done over and over again during that very Shangani business, for one, by other men, and nobody thought of making a fuss about it. It was taken quite as a matter of course, and naturally it genuinely annoys me when Peters tries to make a sort of scissors and paste-pot hero of me." "I shall claim the right to reserve my own opinion, all the same," she declared with mock loftiness. "By the way, who is Mr Peters? He seems something of a mystery." "Yes. He delights in humbugging the curious. Nobody is ever an atom the wiser concerning him." "But--you know." "Yes, I know all about him." "And--you won't tell me?" "No." It came out quite naturally but quite decisively. "Then you will have secrets from me?" "Other people's secrets--certainly." "And--your own?" "I haven't got any." During this apparent skirmish they had been looking each other straight in the eyes. But the skirmish was only apparent. "Oh, I do love a man who knows his own mind," said the girl delightedly. "Why, I was not even trying you, for I knew beforehand what your answer would be." "I know you were not. Well, if you really want to know anything about Peters, the only possible way of doing so is to--ask Peters." Then they both laughed--laughed long and heartily. CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. THE ATTACK AT DAWN. Over the slumbering land the dawn has not yet broken, though but for the chill mist lying upon bush and earth the first faint streaks might be lining the eastern sky. Nor are the voices of the night stilled as yet, and the weird laughter of the faraway jackals, and the crying of invisible plover circling above, blend with ghostly mysterious rustlings among the bush and damp grass-bents. For, like dark ghosts, innumerable figures are flitting, well-nigh shoulder to shoulder in the mist, moving rapidly in noiseless, springy advance.