"Unluckily we've pitched the stones of the wall into the pool surrounding it, and I'm afraid we can't fish them up again. It's a good job we hadn't done much. We were in the middle of the work when Bill heard your shots. He spotted your rifle; his hearing is amazingly acute."
"Well, it seems to me that we are in for a nice little campaign. It is to be hoped your friend Gillespie has started for the farm. I don't like to think of it being left."
"Let's see. He must just about have got my letter, I should think. I don't feel very anxious. We had no troubles except from lions and Juma, and the chief will lend a hand if any wandering tribe turns up, which isn't likely. No, Charley; the difficulty's here: and upon my word it looks as if we've got a campaign on our hands, as you say. However, here we are! There's the fort, and we've got to hold it, my boy."
"Right ho! I only hope it won't be another Ladysmith."
"Can't possibly. Our food won't last a week."
"Oh!" said Ferrier.
[CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH--John's Letter]
In the comfortable dining-room of Mr. Gillespie's bungalow a merry party was assembled. At the right hand of Mr. Gillespie sat a handsome, well-preserved lady, who was fifty and looked forty-five. At the other end of the table, beside the hostess, was our friend Mr. Halliday, fresh and florid, evidently in the best of health. His neighbour on the right was a slim young girl in black; hers was a tall, well-set-up young man of twenty-five. Opposite these two, in due sequence, were a girl who might have been seventeen, and a youth a year or two older, so much like her that no one could have doubted they were brother and sister.
Laughter rang round the table; everybody seemed at the top of cheerfulness, except the girl in black. Even she smiled at a remark addressed to her by Mr. Halliday. There was a pause in the conversation as they devoted themselves to the sweets, which included a wonderful confection of native pine-apples. Then the lady next to Mr. Gillespie, in slow level tones, and with the clear enunciation and scarcely perceptible burr of an educated Scotswoman, said--
"He's a dear boy, I'm sure. We could read so well between the lines of his letters that he thought me a very designing woman----"