"Thomson is dead—murdered; so is his partner and the wife of his partner. Yesterday they were surprised and murdered. Bah! good English blood spilt by dogs of Matabele. Bah! I have done with them; I go with them no more; from this day I am an Englishman."
"Thomson murdered, and Hewetson and Mrs. Hewetson also!" ejaculated Bruce. "Then I am too late! Oh, how glad I am that father was warned in time!"
"Who is your father?" asked Umkopo.
"His name is Gerston. We farm the claim called Gerstonville——"
"I know," interrupted Umkopo; "and he sent you on here alone to warn Thomson. Does he hate you?"
"Rot!" said Bruce; "of course not. I was not alone; my companion is dead."
"Dead? What, killed by these dogs, like Thomson and the others? For each one I will kill ten Matabele, I swear it; and how have you escaped?"
"We hid in the water. Something splashed as they passed, and they threw an assegai and killed poor Uncle Ben; he lies just here, quite close."
"Ah, ah! show me! show me!" said Umkopo.
Bruce led his new friend to the place where lay the dead man, looking as though he slept quietly by the riverside, weary with travelling.