“Ah! ah!” grunted a harsh voice in answer; “let him die, Miss Stella.  He will bring you bad luck—­let him die, I say.”  I felt a movement of air above me as though the woman of my vision turned swiftly, and once again I opened my eyes.  She had risen, this dream woman.  Now I saw that she was tall and graceful as a reed.  She was angry, too; her dark eyes flashed, and she pointed with her hand at a female who stood before her, dressed in nondescript kind of clothes such as might be worn by either a man or a woman.  The woman was young, of white blood, very short, with bowed legs and enormous shoulders.  In face she was not bad-looking, but the brow receded, the chin and ears were prominent—­in short, she reminded me of nothing so much as a very handsome monkey.  She might have been the missing link.

The lady was pointing at her with her hand.  “How dare you?” she said.  “Are you going to disobey me again?  Have you forgotten what I told you, Babyan?"[*]

[*] Baboon.

“Ah! ah!” grunted the woman, who seemed literally to curl and shrivel up beneath her anger.  “Don’t be angry with me, Miss Stella, because I can’t bear it.  I only said it because it was true.  I will fetch the brandy.”

Then, dream or no dream, I determined to speak.

“Not brandy,” I gasped in English as well as my swollen tongue would allow; “give me water.”

“Ah, he lives!” cried the beautiful girl, “and he talks English.  See, sir, here is water in your own bottle; you were quite close to a spring, it is on the other side of the tree.”

I struggled to a sitting position, lifted the bottle to my lips, and drank from it.  Oh! that drink of cool, pure water! never had I tasted anything so delicious.  With the first gulp I felt life flow back into me.  But wisely enough she would not let me have much.  “No more! no more!” she said, and dragged the bottle from me almost by force.

“The child,” I said—­“is the child dead?”

“I do not know yet,” she answered.  “We have only just found you, and I tried to revive you first.”

I turned and crept to where Tota lay by the side of Indaba-zimbi.  It was impossible to say if they were dead or swooning.  The lady sprinkled Tota’s face with the water, which I watched greedily, for my thirst was still awful, while the woman Hendrika did the same office for Indaba-zimbi.  Presently, to my vast delight, Tota opened her eyes and tried to cry, but could not, poor little thing, because her tongue and lips were so swollen.  But the lady got some water into her mouth, and, as in my case, the effect was magical.  We allowed her to drink about a quarter of a pint, and no more, though she cried bitterly for it.  Just then old Indaba-zimbi came to with a groan.  He opened his eyes, glanced round, and took in the situation.

“What did I tell you, Macumazahn?” he gasped, and seizing the bottle, he took a long pull at it.

Meanwhile I sat with my back against the trunk of the great tree and tried to realize the situation.  Looking to my left I saw too good horses—­one bare-backed, and one with a rudely made lady’s saddle on it.  By the side of the horses were two dogs, of a stout greyhound breed, that sat watching us, and near the dogs lay a dead Oribe buck, which they had evidently been coursing.