Just as the rifle of his giant foe swung above him, Byng realized that the third Boer was levelling a rifle directly at his breast. His eyes involuntarily closed as though to draw the curtain of life itself, but, as he did so, he heard a cry—the wild, hoarse cry of a voice he knew so well.
"Baas! Baas!" it called.
Then two shots came simultaneously, and the clubbed rifle brought him to the ground.
"Baas! Baas!"
The voice followed him, as he passed into unconsciousness.
Barry Whalen had seen Rudyard's danger, but had been unable to do anything. His hands were more than full, his life in danger; but in the instant that he had secured his own safety, he heard the cry of "Baas! Baas!" Then he saw the levelled rifle fall from the hands of the Boer who had aimed at Byng, and its owner collapse in a heap. As Rudyard fell beneath the clubbed rifle he heard the cry, "Baas! Baas!" again, and saw an unkempt figure darting among the rocks. His own pistol brought down the old Boer who had felled Byng, and then he realized who it was had cried out, "Baas!"
The last time he had heard that voice was in Park Lane, when Byng, with sjambok, drove a half-caste valet into the street.
It was the voice of Krool. And Krool was now bending over Rudyard's body, raising his head and still murmuring, "Baas—Baas!"
Krool's rifle had saved Rudyard from death by killing one of his own fellow-fighters. Much as Barry Whalen loathed the man, this act showed that Krool's love for the master who had sjamboked him was stronger than death.
Barry, himself bleeding from slight wounds, stooped over his unconscious friend with a great anxiety.