He went, and while he was away, poor little Tota came to herself and began to cry, till she saw my face.

“Ah, I have had such a bad dream,” she said, in Dutch:  “I dreamed that the black Kaffirs were going to kill me.  Where is my papa?”

I winced at the question.  “Your papa has gone on a journey, dear,” I said, “and left me to look after you.  We shall find him one day.  You don’t mind going with Heer Allan, do you?”

“No,” she said, a little doubtfully, and began to cry again.  Presently she remembered that she was thirsty, and asked for water.  I led her to the river and she drank.  “Why is my hand red, Heer Allan?” she asked, pointing to the smear of Bombyane’s blood-stained fingers.

At this moment I felt very glad that I had killed Bombyane.

“It is only paint, dear,” I said; “see, we will wash it and your face.”

As I was doing this, Indaba-zimbi returned.  The guns were all gone; he said the Zulus had taken them and the powder.  But he had found some things and brought them in a sack.  There was a thick blanket, about twenty pounds weight of biltong or sun-dried meat, a few double-handfuls of biscuits, two water-bottles, a tin pannikin, some matches and sundries.

“And now, Macumazahn,” he said, “we had best be going, for those Umtetwas are coming back.  I saw one of them on the brow of the rise.”

That was enough for me.  I lifted little Tota on to the bow of my saddle, climbed into it, and rode off, holding her in front of me.  Indaba-zimbi slipped a reim into the mouth of the best of the Boer horses, threw of the sack of sundries on to its back and mounted also, holding the elephant gun in his hand.  We went eight or nine hundred yards in silence till we were quite out of range of sight from the waggons, which were in a hollow.  Then I pulled up, with such a feeling of thankfulness in my heart as cannot be told in words; for now I knew that, mounted as we were, those black demons could never catch us.  But where were we to steer for?  I put the question to Indaba-zimbi, asking him if he thought that we had better try and follow the oxen which we had sent away with the Kaffirs and women on the preceding night.  He shook his head.

“The Umtetwas will go after the oxen presently,” he answered, “and we have seen enough of them.”

“Quite enough,” I answered, with enthusiasm; “I never want to see another; but where are we to go?  Here we are alone with one gun and a little girl in the vast and lonely veldt.  Which way shall we turn?”

“Our faces were towards the north before we met the Zulus,” answered Indaba-zimbi; “let us still keep them to the north.  Ride on, Macumazahn; to-night when we off-saddle I will look into the matter.”

So all that long afternoon we rode on, following the course of the river.  From the nature of the ground we could only go slowly, but before sunset I had the satisfaction of knowing that there must be at least twenty-five miles between us and those accursed Zulus.  Little Tota slept most of the way, the motion of the horse was easy, and she was worn out.