And now the farewells became general, all talking at once, as people will on such occasions; for the whole household had turned out to see them off. Suddenly Hollingworth said:—
“You’ve forgotten your rifle, Tarrant. Never mind; don’t get down”—for the other was already mounted. “I’ll get it for you. Which corner did you leave it in?”
“Didn’t leave it. Mafuta’s gone on ahead with it.”
“Oh! No chance of him clearing with it, eh?” said Hollingworth.
“No; he’s a reliable boy. Had him a long time. He’s quite safe.”
Thus in that lurid March of ’96 did the settlers in Matabeleland rejoice in their security.
“You put that on rather well, old man,” said Tarrant, as the two rode along.
“What did I put on?”
“Oh, the surprise part of the business. Now I see why you were so desperately bent on fetching up at Hollingworth’s.”
“Smart boy, Dibs. See through a brick wall, and all that sort of thing,” replied Moseley, good-humouredly. “This time you’ve seen through too far, though. I had no more notion Miss Commerell was there than you had, or even that she was in the country at all. Nice girl, isn’t she?”