A few trial shots gave him the range; it was a shade under seven hundred yards, and then he began operations. Lying on the top of the wall and resting his rifle upon a stone, he waited until the man who was superintending the manufacture of the ladders came out into the open, when, aiming carefully, he fired. The soldier, a white-bearded savage, sprang into the air, and fell backwards, while his companions stared upwards, wondering whence the bullet had come.
"Pretty, wasn't it?" said Meyer to Benita, who was watching through a pair of field-glasses.
"I dare say," she answered. "But I don't want to see any more," and giving the glasses to her father, she climbed down the wall.
But Meyer stayed there, and from time to time she heard the report of his rifle. In the evening he told her that he had killed six men and wounded ten more, adding that it was the best day's shooting which he could remember.
"What is the use when there are so many?" she asked.
"Not much," he answered. "But it annoys them and amuses me. Also, it was part of our bargain that we should help the Makalanga if they were attacked."
"I believe that you like killing people," she said.
"I don't mind it, Miss Clifford, especially as they tried to kill you."