Jan and I were following Ralph when he entered the river scherm, and reached it just in time to see pursued and pursuer vanishing up the narrow cleft.  I caught sight of Van Vooren’s back only, but although I had not seen him for years, I knew it at once.

“We have found the tiger at home,” I said, “yonder goes Swart Piet.”

“Allemachter! it is so,” answered Jan.  “Look, there lies the tiger’s prey,” and pointing to Sihamba he followed them up the mountain side as fast as his weight would allow, for in those days Jan was a very heavy man.

Meanwhile I made my way to the little figure that was stretched upon the rock at the edge of the river.  She had fainted, but even before I reached her I saw from her small size and the strange hoop of stiff hair that she wore about her head, that it was none other than Sihamba, Sihamba whom I had last seen upon the eve of that unlucky marriage day.

But oh! she was sadly changed.  One of her legs, I forget which, had been broken by a gunshot; the blood trickled from the wound where Van Vooren had stabbed her in the back; her little body was wasted by the want of water, and her face had shrunk to the size of that of a small child, although strangely enough it still was pretty.  I knelt down by her, and placing my hand upon her heart felt that it still beat, though very slowly.  Then I took water and sprinkled it upon her, and at the touch of it she opened her eyes at once.

“Give me to drink,” she moaned, and I did so, pouring the water down her throat, which was ridged and black like a dog’s palate.  Her eyes opened and she knew me.

“Greeting, mother of Swallow,” she said, “you come in a good hour, for now I shall be able to tell you all before I die, and I am glad that I was strong enough to endure the torment of thirst for so many hours.”

“Tell me one thing, Sihamba,” I said.  “Does Suzanne live, and is she safe?”

“Yes, she lives, and I hope that this night she will be safe with your own people, the Boers, for she has crossed the mountains to seek shelter in that laager which is by the white-topped koppie near the banks of the Tugela in Natal.”

“The laager by the white-topped koppie——­” I gasped.  “Oh, my God! that must be the camp which the Zulus attack to-morrow at the dawn.”

“What do you say?” Sihamba asked.

In a few words I told her the tale that we had heard from the dying soldier, and she listened eagerly.

“I fear it must be true,” she said, when I had finished, “for while he was tormenting me Bull-Head let it fall that Dingaan’s regiments had gone hence by order of the King to make war upon the Boers in Natal, but I took little heed, thinking that he lied.

“Well,” she went on after resting a while, “they may be beaten off, or—­stay, in the glade yonder is the great schimmel horse; Bull-Head’s people brought him down for him and I know that hours ago he has been well fed and watered.  If her husband mounts him at sunset, he can be with the Swallow in the laager well before the dawn, in time to warn them all.  Presently, when he returns from killing Bull-Head, I will show him the road, for I shall live till sunset.  Give me more water, I pray you.”