"Hurrah!" cried May, "we've got the Kafirs in a calabash;" and May was right--the warriors were in the mountains between the forces of the two generals; but the cattle, the great source of contention, was far eastward, under the charge of a chief professedly friendly to England. Mr Daveney hastened to send Sir Adrian a dispatch announcing his suspicions of Lyle's confederacy with the rebel Boers, but suggested that the idea should not be mooted for the present. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The roar of cannon and the sharp rattle of musketry proclaimed to the settlers at Annerley, on the 18th of March, that the colonial forces to the westward were engaged with the Kafir warriors. It thundered on till night; then the fiery telegraphs were lit again upon the mountain ridges--silence fell--heaven and earth grew dark again. Morning came, the sun struggled with flying mists, and again the echoes from shot and shell and musket reverberated from kloof to kloof, and filled the hearts of the listeners with terror and dismay. The little bushman kept watch upon the top of the block-house from dawn till sunset, and Marion shared his vigil for hours. They were strongly contrasted, were those two beings, both fashioned by God's wise hand. The girl young, blooming, sunny-haired, and graceful; the bushman stunted, ugly, and uncouth; nevertheless, they had many thoughts and feelings in common. Another day was passing, and still the battle raged; but in the afternoon there was a lull. The very elements were still, and a soft rain descended gently. Still May and Marion kept watch together. "Express!" shouted May. Marion's lips were closed rigidly, her teeth chattered within; she knew not how she reached the lower apartment: her father had left it; the door stood open; the riders galloped in by the trampled vineyard paths. "They are beaten, of course?" said Mr Daveney to the captain of the riders. "Beaten, but not conquered," replied the latter gravely; "and we have lost--" Marion, statue-like, appeared at her father's side. "A hundred men and five officers," continued the burgher captain. "We had friends in the action," said Mr Daveney, trying to be firm. "Can you tell us if they are safe?" "Their names, sir?" "Frankfort and Ormsby." "I have the list of officers killed and wounded," said the man; and first he looked in his hat, next he fumbled in his capacious pockets, then he turned his haversack round,--it was not there; examined his pouch--"No; he was afraid he had lost it." How little could he understand the agonised suspense of Marion. He took off his wide-flapped hat again. "See under the feather," said May. The bushman's quick eye had detected a paper stuck in the string encircling the hat; it was the list. May snatched it from him, and handed it to Mr Daveney. Neither Ormsby's nor Frankfort's name was there. Marion burst into tears of gratitude and excitement.