“Thanks, I’m not sleepy—but I’ll turn in when you do.”
“Well, I’m going now. The youngster has the tent. I roll up under the waggon.”
“I’ll roll up beside you,” announced the stranger pleasantly. “But I hope you don’t snore, for I am a light sleeper, and wake at the slightest sound.” He happened to be looking steadily into the eyes of Vivienne as he said this.
“The blazes you do!” burst out Roper violently, as though this were the last straw. “Well, I don’t care a hang whether you sleep or not.”
“Thanks,” answered the other imperturbably. Vivienne spent a wakeful night. As a matter of fact, snoring was not an accomplishment of Roper’s, so she was unable to gather from the silence that reigned under the waggon whether either or neither of the men slept. She lay straining her ears for what seemed ages, but the only break in the silence was the sound of the umfan at his mechanical duty of replenishing the fire, until, in the dark hour just before dawn, she was aroused from an uneasy doze by a faint movement at the opening of the tent. She lay dead still, and for one moment her heart seemed to miss a beat. In the darkness she could see nothing by which to judge whether the person near were friend or foe, but suddenly her heart beat again, for a faint fragrance of Navy Cut tobacco had come stealing into the tent, and she knew that fragrance well. She had sat next to it for many days in a coach. Very different that to the rank odour of Roper’s Boer tabak.
Then, silently and swiftly, a small heavy object, cold and polished to the touch slid in beside her. Her hand slipped round it, and another hand closed for an instant on hers, then withdrew. No word was spoken.
As soon as it was light enough, she examined her new possession, though her fingers had long since informed her of its character. A beautiful Colt’s, loaded in all its five chambers. A tiny leaf of paper tucked into the barrel bore a few scribbled words:
“Use this if necessary. Don’t worry about consequences. I’ll look after those, Kerry.”
Part of the “y” of “Kerry” had been left behind in the note book from which the leaf was torn.
“Well! our friend the gallant pioneer has gone, hey?”