Peters was as hard as nails, and absolutely sound in wind and limb--yet he started handicapped by reason of the strain upon both effected by his recent struggle. And he had about two miles to cover before reaching the homestead. Even then, was safety there? Lamont might not have returned, in all probability would not have--and then these might waylay and murder him at their leisure; whereas the two of them might have made a good show of defence. Of Ancram's presence he took no account whatever. All this passed through his brain as he ran--yet ran with judgment. He had not put forth his best pace as yet. A glance over his shoulder from time to time told him that his enemies, though they kept the distance equal, were not gaining on him, and that being so, he would reserve a spurt for emergencies. Thus the chase sped on, and the pursuing savages strung out upon the track of the one white man like a pack of hounds in full cry. Ancram the while was sitting in the shade of the rough verandah, reading a novel, and, alternately, thinking. He had returned there with a purpose, and that was to force Lamont to do something for him; wherefore the ill-concealed ungraciousness of his welcome had no effect upon him whatever. He could make it unpleasant for Lamont--very unpleasant; he had already noticed a growing coolness towards the latter since he had insinuated here and there the tale--his version--of the affair at Courtland Mere. And Clare Vidal? Watching her furtively but keenly he had recognised that she entertained a high opinion of Lamont, but not of himself. Well, that might be altered, with a little judicious innuendo, as to the first, at any rate, if not as to the last. She certainly was a splendid looking girl, and ought to have her eyes opened. Lovely eyes they were, too, by Jove! Looking up now, he saw Lamont strolling across from the stable. "I say, old chap, do you go to bed with that magazine rifle?" he said banteringly, in allusion to the weapon the other always carried during the last few days. "You may yet come to see the sound judgment even of that," he answered grimly. And such are the coincidences, the ironies of life, that even as he spoke a couple of shots snapped forth from among the thorns along the top of the river bank, together with an astonishing whoop. "Hi-ha! Lamont! Look out! Look out! The devils are coming!" "That's Peters," he said. "Why, what the deuce--" began Ancram, looking blank, as a horrible suspicion of the truth began to dawn upon him.