“Haven’t you had enough of that sort of thing yet, Nidia? If I had been through one-tenth of what you have, I’d never want to go adventuring any more.”
“Perhaps I’ve contracted a taste that way now,” was the reply, with a weariful laugh. “But anything rather than sit still as we are doing. I want a little excitement—a stirring up.”
The other stared in wild amazement. Was the child really going off her head? she thought again. But a knock on the open door announced the advent of visitors, and lo! two men bronzed and coatless, according to the fashion in Rhodesia, swept off their broad-brimmed hats and entered. They were, in fact, Tarrant and Carbutt, and at sight of them Nidia brightened up somewhat.
“Well, and what’s the latest in the way of scares?” she began, after the exchange of greetings.
“None at present, Miss Commerell,” replied Carbutt. “Things are slack. We shall have to go and have another slap at the niggers up yonder, to keep the rust off. They are getting altogether too cheeky, squatting around Government House its very self.”
“That’ll make a little excitement,” said Nidia. “We can watch your deeds of derring-do from here through the glasses.”
“Heavens, no!” said Mrs Bateman, with fervour. “I don’t want to see or hear anything more of those dreadful wretches, except that they’ve all been shot.”
“By the way, there is a small item in the way of the latest,” said Tarrant, carelessly. “Another man has rolled in who had been given up as a dead ’un.”
“Yes. Is it anybody we know?” asked Nidia, quickly.
“I rather think it is,” returned Tarrant, watching her face yet while not seeming to. “Ames of Sikumbutana.”