“The horses are getting rested and feeding well, though some of their legs have filled, and the trap is little the worse, for I have walked to look at them, or rather hopped, leaning on the shoulder of a very sniffy Swazi boy.  Do you know, old fellow, I believe there never were any Basutos; also that the venerable Marnham and the lurid Rodd had no real existence, that they were but illusions, a prolonged nightmare—­no more.  Here is your shirt.  I am sorry that I have not had time to wash it, but it has cooked well in the sun, which, being flannel, is almost as good.”

“At any rate Heda remains,” I remarked, cutting his nonsense short, “and I suppose she is not a nightmare or a delusion.”

“Yes, thank God! she remains,” he replied with earnestness.  “Oh!  Allan, I thought she must drown in that river, and if I had lost her, I think I should have gone mad.  Indeed, at the moment I felt myself going mad while I dragged and flogged at those horses.”

“Well, you didn’t lose her, and if she had drowned, you would have drowned also.  So don’t talk any more about it.  She is safe, and now we have got to keep her so, for you are not married yet, my boy, and there are generally more trees in a wood than one can see.  Still we are alive and well, which is more than we had any right to expect, and, as you say, let us thank God for that.”

Then I put on my coat and my boots which Anscombe had greased as he had no blacking, and crept from the hut.

There, only a few yards away, engaged in setting the breakfast in the shadow of another hut on a tanned hide that served for a tablecloth while Kaatje saw to the cooking close by, I found Heda, still a little pale and sorrowful but otherwise quite well and rested.  Moreover, she had managed to dress herself very nicely, I suppose by help of spare clothes in the cart, and therefore looked as charming as she always did.  I think that her perfect manners were one of her greatest attractions.  Thus on this morning her first thought was to thank me very sweetly for all she was good enough to say I had done for her and Anscombe, thereby, as she put it, saving their lives several times over.

“My dear young lady,” I answered as roughly as I could, “don’t flatter yourself on that point; it was my own life of which I was thinking.”

But she only smiled and, shaking her head in a fascinating way that was peculiar to her, remarked that I could not deceive her as I did the Kaffirs.  After this the solid Kaatje brought the food and we breakfasted very heartily, or at least I did.

Now I am not going to set out all the details of our journey through Swazi-Land, for though in some ways it was interesting enough, also as comfortable as a stay among savages can be, for everywhere we were kindly received, to do so would be too long, and I must get on with my story.  At the king’s kraal, which we did not reach for some days as the absence of roads and the flooded state of the rivers, also the need of sparing our horses, caused us to travel very slowly, I met a Boer who I think was concession hunting.