Her face lighted up in a way that cost poor Wyndham something of a pang. It was even as he had said. Away over the nearly flat landscape figures were moving--horsemen. As they drew nearer it could be seen that they were split up in irregular groups, and were riding leisurely. "Mr Wyndham, will you do me a very great favour?" she went on, speaking quickly. "Do get me those binoculars some of you were looking through yesterday." "Certainly I will. Grunberger has a good pair." He was back at her side in a minute. What horrible presentiment or instinct was it that caused Clare's hands to tremble as she put the glasses to her eyes, so that she could scarcely see anything through them? With an effort she controlled her excitement. The horsemen were much nearer now, and she could make out they were quite unconcerned, and seemed to be chatting and laughing together. Clearly, then, nothing had gone wrong, and there had been no casualties. To that extent relieved she brought the glasses to bear upon group after group, but still they failed to reveal--one. "Where is he?" she repeated, speaking unconsciously half aloud. "Let me look, Miss Vidal," said Wyndham, tactfully facing the situation. Then, as she surrendered the glasses to him, a rapid, but careful scrutiny convinced him that among those now approaching Lamont was not. "Don't be anxious, Miss Vidal," he said. "There may be others coming on behind. In fact, there are sure to be." But as the mounted men drew near, the veldt between them and the farthest line of vision spread undisturbed by other mounted figures-- no--nor did the widest scrutiny in any direction reveal any sight of such. What did it mean? "Keep yourself in hand, Miss Vidal, whatever you do," said Wyndham concernedly, as he noted how ashy pale the beautiful face had grown. "I'll find out about this." In a very short time the whole troop had mustered. The men were in high spirits. They had driven the enemy before them for miles, they reported, and had made still greater holes in their numbers. They had broken up that impi most effectually, and taught the rebels a lesson they wouldn't forget for a long day to come. Lamont? Oh, he had last been seen away on the right flank with about a dozen men riding down the enemy for all they were worth. The mist was rather thick up where they were, which was at the foot of a range of low hills. He'd turn up directly, they held. Turn up! Rather! Of course he would, and report a record bag, too. Lamont was an old campaigner and a knowing one. There need be no anxiety about him. And then all hands, having attended to their horses, turned to and assailed their well-earned refreshment with a whole-heartedness that left nothing to be desired.