When at last he grew more or less quiet I called to the messenger that we white folk were not in the habit of abandoning each other, and that we would live or die together.  Still, I bade him tell Quabie that if we did die, the vengeance taken on him and all his people would be to wipe them out till not one of them was left, and therefore that he would do well not to cause any of our blood to flow.  Also, I added, that we had thirty men in the house (which, of course, was a lie) and plenty of ammunition and food, so that if he chose to continue the attack it would be the worse for him and his tribe.

On hearing this the herald shouted back that we should every one of us be dead before noon if he had his way.  Still, he would report my words faithfully to Quabie and bring his answer.

Then he turned and began to walk off.  Just as he did so a shot was fired from the house, and the man pitched forward to the ground, then rose again and staggered back towards his people, with his right shoulder shattered and his arm swinging.

“Who did that?” I asked through the smoke, which prevented me from seeing.

“I, parbleu!” shouted Leblanc.  “Sapristi! that black devil wanted to torture me, Leblanc, the friend of the great Napoleon.  Well, at least I have tortured him whom I meant to kill.”

“Yes, you fool,” I answered; “and we, too, shall be tortured because of your wickedness.  You have shot a messenger carrying a flag of truce, and that the Quabies will never forgive.  Oh!  I tell you that you have hit us as well as him, who had it not been for you might have been spared.”

These words I said quite quietly and in Dutch, so that our Kaffirs might understand them, though really I was boiling with wrath.

But Leblanc did not answer quietly.

“Who are you,” he shouted, “you wretched little Englishman, who dare to lecture me, Leblanc, the friend of the great Napoleon?”

Now I drew my pistol and walked up to the man.

“Be quiet, you drunken sot,” I said, for I guessed that he had drunk more of the brandy in the darkness.  “If you are not quiet and do not obey me, who am in command here, either I will blow your brains out, or I will give you to these men,” and I pointed to Hans and the Kaffirs, who had gathered round him, muttering ominously.  “Do you know what they will do with you?  They will throw you out of the house, and leave you to settle your quarrel with Quabie alone.”

Leblanc looked first at the pistol, and next at the faces of the natives, and saw something in one or other of them, or in both, that caused him to change his note.

“Pardon, monsieur,” he said; “I was excited.  I knew not what I said.  If you are young you are brave and clever, and I will obey you,” and he went to his station and began to re-load his gun.  As he did so a great shout of fury rose from the cattle kraal.  The wounded herald had reached the Quabies and was telling them of the treachery of the white people.