Then the very heavens above took part in the fight, and in a trice the deafening, stunning thunder crashes rendered the sputter of the volleys as the noise of mere popguns, and the lurid blinding glare of lightning, pouring down in rivers of sheeting flame, put out the flash of man's puny weapons. "This is rather more risky than their bullets, eh Hilary?" remarked Percival West, involuntarily shrinking down from one of these awful flashes. "Gun barrels are a good conductor," was the grimly consolatory reply. So, too, are assegai blades. In the midst of that stunning awful crash that seems to split open the world, five Matabele warriors are lying, mangled, fused into all shapes--and shapelessness--while nearly twice that number besides are lying stunned, as though smitten with a blow of a knob-kerrie. "_Mamo_!" cries Ziboza, who is just outside the limit of this destruction, himself unsteady from the shock. "Lo, the very heavens above are fighting on the side of these whites!" CHAPTER FIVE. A SUBLIME LIE. "Trooper Skelsey missing, sir." Such the terse report. The patrol had continued its retreat the night through, taking advantage of the known aversion of the Matabele--in common, by the way, with pretty nearly all other savages--to fighting in the dark. Now it was just daybreak, and the muster had been called-- with the above result. Where had he last been seen? Nobody knew exactly. He had formed one of the party left as a rear-guard. Sybrandt had, however, exchanged a few words with him since they had all rejoined the patrol. Some declared they had seen him since, but, as to time a general mistiness prevailed. "Well, I can't send back for him," pronounced the commanding officer curtly. "He must take his chance. I'm not going to risk other men's lives for the sake of one, and seriously weaken the patrol into the bargain." "If you don't mind, Major," said Blachland, who was standing by, "I'll ride a mile or two back. I believe I can pick him up, and I've got the best horse of the few left us." "Guess you'll need him," interjected the American scout. "Well, I can't give you any men, Blachland," said the Major. "No, not one single man. You go at your own risk." "I'll take that. I've been into tighter corners before." Here several men volunteered, including Percival West. These were curtly dismissed. "I don't want you, Percy," said Blachland. "In fact I wouldn't have you at any price--excuse my saying so." And there was a laugh, in the midst of which the young fellow gave way to the inevitable. But there was another man who proved less amenable, and that was Justin Spence. "Do let me go, sir," he said, stepping forward. "Skelsey and I prospected together once."