"The—swine!" commented Charley.
"Get a lantern," commanded Mills to the Kafirs. "What d'you mean?" he asked of the tall man.
"He shot a woman," said Dave. The tone was eloquent of the speaker's rage and disgust.
Mills stared open-mouthed. "A woman!" he gasped.
"A woman," replied Dave. "Shot her, as bold as the devil, on the street, in the daytime, and did a bolt for the bush. Every man that could put foot to the ground is out after him."
A kafir arrived then with the lantern Mills had designed for the Frenchman, and by its light he was able to see the faces of the men. They were all known to him. The man who was cording the prisoner's arms had seen his daring work at Mandega's. He knelt on the prostrate form as he worked, and the Frenchman's face showed like a waxen mask on the ground. Blood was running from a deep cut on his cheek.
"I save yo' life, Jone," he gasped.
"Shut up!" snapped one of the men, and struck him on the mouth.
"Here," protested Mills; "go slow, can't you, There's no call to bang him about."
They stared at him with astonishment. "Why, man," exclaimed Charley, "didn't we tell you he shot a woman?"