When they heard this saying, Suzanne and Sihamba looked at each other in dismay.

“Alas!” said Suzanne, “it seems that we do but change one prison for another, for now we must be borne away to the far north to do battle with this Kaffir chief, and there be left among your people, so that none will know what has become of us, and the heart of Ralph will break with doubt and sorrow; yes, and those of my parents also.”

“It is bad,” answered Sihamba, “but had not yonder diviner dreamed that dream of a swallow, it would have been worse.  Better is it to travel in all honour with the impis of Sigwe than to be dragged back by Bull-Head to his secret kraal—­I to be done to death there and you to the choice of which you know.  For the rest we must take our chance and escape when the time comes, and meanwhile we will send a message to the stead.”

Now Suzanne heard her, and sat upon the horse thinking, for her trouble was sore; still, she could see no way out of the net which had meshed her.  As she thought, a man who was herding cattle on the mountains ran up to the chief and saluted him, saying that five men, one of them white, rode towards his kraal.  When Suzanne heard this she hesitated no more, but cried out to the chief Sigwe, speaking in the Kaffir tongue, which she knew well: 

“Chief Sigwe, swear to me that you will not suffer Bull-Head so much as to touch me or my sister Sihamba, and that while we dwell with you you will treat us with all honour, and I, who am named Swallow, yes, I, the White Swallow of the diviner’s dream, will lead your armies to the northern land, bringing you the good fortune which is mine to give to others, though myself I know it not.”

“I swear by the spirits of my fathers, lady,” answered Sigwe, “and these my counsellors and headmen swear it also.”

“Yes,” echoed the counsellors, “we swear it, all of it, and while one of us is left alive the oath shall be fulfilled, O White Bird of good omen.”

Then Sigwe gave an order, and at his bidding five hundred soldiers, the half of a regiment, ran up and formed a circle about Sihamba and Suzanne, who still sat upon the schimmel, white faced and wearied, her hair hanging down her back.  Scarcely was the circle made when from round the shoulder of the hill appeared Swart Piet and with him his four after-riders.

Seeing all the great array, he halted for a moment astonished, then catching sight of Suzanne set up above the heads of the ring of soldiers, he rode straight to Sigwe, who, with his counsellors and guards, was standing outside the circle.

“Chief Sigwe,” he said, “a wife of mine with her servant has escaped from me, and as I suspected taken refuge in your kraal, for I see her sitting yonder surrounded by your soldiers.  Now, in the name of our friendship, I pray you hand them over to me that I may lead them back to their duty.”