"Whoop!--Hooray! Yoicks forward!" shouted the beleaguered combatants, each man giving his particular form of cheer, varying from savage war-cry to view halloo. They were wild with excitement, not only by reason of their unlooked for deliverance from almost certain massacre, but also on account of being in a position to turn the tables upon their skulking foe. Then came the crack--crack--crack--of the rifles of the new arrivals, who advanced rapidly, yet not entirely without caution, through the bush, picking off the retreating Kafirs as these showed themselves in fleeing from cover to cover. And above the crackle of the dropping shots rang out the wild notes of a bugle, villainously played. A roar of laughter went up from our friends. "Brathwaite's Horse for a fiver!" cried Hoste. "That's Jack Armitage's post-horn. I know its infamous old bray--And--there's Brathwaite himself." "Any of you fellows hurt?" sung out the latter, a fine, stalwart frontiersman, who, with several of his men, rode down upon the group. The remainder were spread out in skirmishing line on either side, the irregular rattle of their fire showing that they were still busy peppering the enemy in sight. "One man killed," answered Shelton. "It's Parr, poor chap." "So? Well, fall in with us and come on. We haven't done with Jack Kafir yet." "Can't. We're all but cleaned out of ammunition." "So?" said Brathwaite again. "We've turned up none too soon then. Fortunately we've got plenty." A hurried levy was made upon the cartridge belts of the new arrivals, and thus reinforced in every sense of the word, the Kaffrarian men, keen to avenge their comrade and retrieve their position, fell in with their rescuers, and the whole force moved rapidly forward in pursuit of the enemy. But the latter had hastened to make himself scarce. With characteristic celerity, the wily savages seemed to have melted into earth or air. If thirty-five whites--a mere handful--had given them about as much fighting as they could stomach, they were not going to stand against that handful multiplied by three. "There they go!" suddenly shouted someone, pointing to the almost bare brow of a hill about half a mile away, over which a number of Kafirs were swarming in full retreat. A tremendous fusillade was opened upon this point, but with slight effect. The distance was too great. "We must get the cattle," cried Brathwaite, Shelton having hurriedly given him the particulars. "And we must race for them, too, for they'll have got a good start. They are sure to take them right away to that big bit of forest which runs down to the coast. Once there they are safe as far as we are concerned. I know this strip of country."