But search as he would Ralph could not see the saw-edged rock.  He reached the range indeed, and for hour after hour roamed up and down it, his heart torn with helpless haste and fears, but it was of no use, so at last he dismounted, and holding the schimmel by the bridle allowed him to eat a little grass while he waited for the moon to rise.  Oh! never was the moon so long in coming, but at length it came, and with it clear, soft light.  He looked, and there, not half a mile away, just showing in the shadows, was the saw-edged rock he sought.

“There is little time to lose,” Ralph muttered to himself as the stallion swept across the plain towards the rock.  “In three hours it will be dawn, and these mountains are sheer and wide.”

Now he was in the pass and galloping up its rocky steeps as fast as the horse dare travel and not fall.  Up he went through the moonlit silence that was broken only by the distant roaring of lions; up for one hour and for two.  Now he was at the crest of the mountains, and beneath him, miles away, lay the dim veldt, and there—­yes, there in the far distance—­the moonbeams sparkled upon a white-topped koppie and the waters of a river that washed its base.  Miles and miles away, and but one hour left to cover them.  One short hour, and if it was not enough then death by the Zulu assegai would be the portion of Suzanne and of those among whom she sheltered.  For a moment Ralph breathed the horse, then he shook the reins, and with a snort of pride the schimmel started upon his last gallop.

Ah! what a ride was that.  Had ever man the like of it?  Rushing down an untrodden mountain way swifter than others dare travel on a plain, bounding from rock to rock like a buck, dashing through streams, and leaping dim gullies at a stride.  On, on went the schimmel, with never a slip and never a stumble.  On, swifter than a sassaby and surer-footed than a fox; now the worst of the road was passed, and a long, smooth slope, almost free from stones, led them to the grassy plain beneath.  The schimmel swept down it at a fearful pace and reached the level land in safety, but the strain of that mad gallop told its tale upon him, for he was drenched with sweat, his eye was red with blood, and the breath whistled in his throat.

Ralph raised himself in his stirrups and scanned the sky, which began to brighten with the coming dawn.

“There is time,” he muttered, “for the koppie is near, and the Zulus will not attack till they can see the white moons upon their finger nails.”

Now he was speeding up a long rise, for here the land lies in waves like a frozen sea.  He topped it, and in an instant—­almost before he saw them—­he had swept through a Zulu impi marching stealthily in a triple line with companies thrown forward to the right and left.  They shouted in astonishment, but before they could harm him or the horse he was out of reach of their spears and galloping forward with a glad heart, for now he thought the danger done with.