"I hope not, sir," answered the subaltern, "but—but——"
"Proceed," urged his questioner calmly.
Wilmshurst, seeing no other course, boldly took his plunge, stating his views upon the connection between the scout's disappearance and the timely warning received by the retiring enemy, producing as evidence the rimmed cartridge case, which by reason of its shape and calibre could not be fired from a Mauser rifle.
"Dash it all!" exclaimed the adjutant explosively. "What sort of reptile have we been harbouring? I'm afraid that what steps we take concerning him will be locking the stable door after the horse has gone."
"We are working simply in conjecture, sir," observed the subaltern. "He may be all right, after all."
"Conjecture, confound it!" shouted the other. "What d'you call this?" holding up the cartridge case. "If it isn't circumstantial evidence, what is?"
At that moment an orderly put in an appearance. "Macgreg him horse am come back, sah," he reported, saluting.
The adjutant, picking up a sheaf of papers and putting on his sun-helmet, hurried to the lines where the horses were picketed, Wilmshurst following and the orderly bringing up the rear.
Already news of MacGregor's disappearance had spread, although there was no thought of treachery in the minds of the other officers. They had come to the conclusion that the Rhodesian in an access of zeal had blundered right into the enemy column.
The appearance of the horse bore out this surmise. The animal was lathered with foam, its eyes bloodshot and its limbs trembling. Across the hind quarters was the sear of a bullet that had cut away the hair and left a slight wound in the hide. One stirrup was missing, cut through by means of a sharp implement, while the saddle and reins were dappled with blood-stains.