Part 32 (1/2)

”Yes, you seemed to have got the funks to some considerable purpose,”

grumbled Fullerton. ”Hang it, Lucy, I thought you had more pluck. Look at Clare, now. She was positively enjoying it.”

”Oh no, she wasn't,” corrected that young person, who had just entered.

”No, not in the very least. But I suppose different people take on different forms of scare. Mine took that of a sort of desperate excitement.”

”Yours? Form of scare! By jingo! that's a 'form of scare' we could do with plenty of during these jolly lively days,” returned Fullerton.

”Oh, and look here, d.i.c.k,” went on the girl. ”I must ask you not to talk about it--I mean not to go bragging around to everybody that your sister-in-law shot twenty or forty or sixty Matabele--or whatever you are going to make it--in the fight at the Kezane Store.”

”Why in thunder not? Why shouldn't you have your share of the kudos as well as anyone else in the same racket?”

”Because I don't want it. Because I want to forget my share in it. The consciousness of having taken life, even in the very extremity of self-defence, can never be a subject of self-congratulation, especially to a woman. I, for one, don't want ever to hear it referred to.”

”Well, you are squeamish, Clare. Let me tell you that the rest of us don't share your opinions. There isn't a man jack, from Lamont downwards, who hasn't been blowing your trumpet loud enough to wake the dead.”

A softer look came into her face at the name. Perhaps her brother-in-law partially read it, perhaps he didn't.

”By the way, d.i.c.k,” she went on, ”I suppose by this time you have found reason for somewhat altering your opinion of Mr Lamont's courage, have you? It used to be rather unfavourable, if I remember right.”

”Rather, I should think I had. I told him so too, during a lull in the scrimmage.”

”Oh, you told him so. And what did he answer?”

”Nothing. He sloshed a pistol-bullet into a big buck n.i.g.g.e.r who'd romped up in the long gra.s.s to blaze into us. By George, here he is.”

”Who? The 'n.i.g.g.e.r'?”

”Morning, Lamont. Come to have breakfast, of course?” for they had just sat down. ”We were just talking about you.”

”I'll change the subject to a more interesting one then,” was the answer. ”How are you, Mrs Fullerton, and did you have a restful night, for I'm sure you deserved one?”

”Not very. I'm a shocking coward, but I'm afraid it's const.i.tutional,”

answered poor Lucy. But he laughingly rea.s.sured her, and talked about the fineness of the day, and the extent of the view around Kezane, and soon got away from yesterday's battle entirely.

Lamont's morning greeting, as far as Clare was concerned, was a fine piece of acting, for they had arranged not to make public their understanding until safe back at Gandela. Yet the swift flash as glance met glance, and a subtle hand-pressure, were as eloquent as words to those most concerned.

Watching him, though not appearing to, Clare's heart was aglow with illimitable pride and love. The emergency had brought out the man beyond even her estimate of him, and that had been not small. She had read him from the very first, had seen what was in him, and her instinct had been justified to the full. She was proud to remember how she had always believed in him, and that the more detraction reached her ears the more did it strengthen rather than sap that belief. And now--and now--he was hers and she was his.

Others dropped in--Peters, and Jim Steele, and Strange the doctor, and two or three more, and soon the talk became general. At a hint from Lamont the subject of the fight of yesterday was left out, and they got on to others, just as if nothing had occurred to disturb the peace in the midst of which, a short twenty-four hours back, they had imagined themselves to dwell. But it seemed to Lamont that Grunberger's wife, a pleasant-looking Englishwoman who was taking care of their wants, was eyeing him with a mingling of covert amus.e.m.e.nt and interest. ”Shall we stroll about outside, Miss Vidal?” he said, a little later, when they were out in the air again. ”What do you think, Mrs Fullerton? A const.i.tutional won't hurt us.”

But Lucy protested that no consideration on earth would induce her to set foot outside the gates--as they knew she would. No, no. These horrible savages had a knack of springing up out of nowhere. Clare seemed to know how to take care of herself, but she, a.s.suredly, did not.

It was in vain for Lamont to impress upon her that the ground around the place was quite open, and that there were pickets posted at intervals where the not very thick bush began. She was obdurate--as he knew she would be.

The question of making some sort of patrol had been discussed, but it had been decided that it was not worth the risk. Their force was none too strong to defend the place if attacked by numbers, which was very likely to happen, for the Kezane was one of the largest and most important stores along the line of coaches, and was always well supplied with everything likely to tempt the cupidity of the savages. A patrol might venture too far and in the wrong direction, and get cut off; then what a serious weakening of their forces that would mean. So pickets were posted instead.

”Then you haven't awoke to the conclusion you were rather hasty last night, Clare?”

”Have you?” she answered sweetly.

”Good G.o.d! Need you ask? But it is a fitting reply to an idiotic question.”