"I should think so. I showed him a six-shooter--I had one in each pocket--and promised to blow his head off if he didn't give me that red cap right there. Now a native is nothing if not practical, and the fact of all in Gandela being massacred was nothing to this one if he wasn't there to see the fun, as, of course, he wouldn't be. So--he handed over the red cap. I own, though, it was rather a tense moment while he was sort of hesitating whether to do so or not." Clare could only gasp, and stared speechless at this man, whom she had heard her brother-in-law, and others, describe as something of a coward--and of whom she, in spite of her better instincts, had thought sorely and with resentment only yesterday, by reason of what she termed to herself his `rudeness' in flatly refusing to do what she had asked him. Good Heavens! And all the time, by his nerve and cool-headedness, he had saved her and the whole settlement from a hideous death. What a cool, masterful, resourceful brain was here. "But, Mr Lamont," she broke forth at last, "how did you know that this awful thing was contemplated--was to happen?" "Well, that's something of a story. I heard it among them--heard the whole scheme in all its details. Of course they don't know that, or I shouldn't be alive here, talking to you at this moment. Indeed, the amazement of the old witch-doctor at finding himself euchred imparted a comic element into a most confoundedly tragical situation." Clare looked at him in silence. She was turning over in her mind the events of the previous day. She remembered how the fact of him appearing in a coat had been commented on as an out-of-the-way circumstance. Now it all stood explained. It was to conceal the deadly weapon wherewith he had compelled the treacherous Matabele to abandon his murderous plan. And what an awful contrast was there--that gathering, as unsuspecting and light-hearted as though in the midst of peaceful England, while not a mile away hovered a storm-cloud of bloodthirsty savages awaiting the signal to overwhelm the whole in a whirlwind of massacre and agonising death. And this had been averted by the coolness and resolution of one man. "You may or may not have noticed that the old ruffian was wearing two caps, a red and a white?" "Yes, I remarked on that," said Clare. "I wondered his head didn't split." "Well, the white cap was to be the signal that the time was not ripe. I made him throw up that, and hooray with the rest of us." "Yes, I remember that too, and how we all laughed." "Of course I primed him with the state of preparedness we were all in, though not seeming to be--and that there were Maxims hidden under that waggon sail instead of soda-water bottles. Good Lord, if the bar-keeper had sent his boy to get out a fresh box of the same! but he didn't, luckily." "Yes, indeed. But what have you done about the affair, Mr Lamont? and is the old witch-doctor in prison?"