Now at this Ralph cursed the name of Swart Piet aloud, and Jan answered,

“It is a bullet from my roer that he shall kiss if he tries it, that I swear.”

“I hope it may be so,” said Sihamba; “yet, Father of Swallow, I pray you send me not away from her who bought me at a great price, and to whom my life belongs.  Look; I cost you but little to keep, and that little I can earn by doctoring your horses and cattle, in which art I have some skill, as you know well.  Moreover I have many eyes and ears that can see and hear things to which yours are deaf and blind, and I tell you that I think a time will come when I shall be able to do service to all of you who are of the nest of the Swallow.  Now, if she bids me to go I will go—­for am I not her servant to obey?—­yet I beseech you do not so command her.”

Sihamba had risen as she spoke, and now she stood before Jan, her head thrown back, looking up into his eyes with such strange power that, though he was great and strong and had no will to it, yet he found himself forced to look down into hers.  More, as he told me afterwards, he saw many things in the eyes of Sihamba, or it may be that he thought that he saw them, for Jan was always somewhat superstitious.  At least this is true that more than once during the terrible after years, when some great event had happened to us he would cry out, “I have seen this place, or thing, before, I know not where.”  Then if I bade him think he would answer, “Now I remember; it was in the eyes of Sihamba that I saw it, yonder in the Transkei before Ralph and Suzanne were married.”

Presently she freed his eyes and turned her head, whereon Jan grew pale and swayed as though he were about to fall.  Recovering himself, however, he said shortly,

“Stay if you will, Sihamba; you are welcome for so long as it shall please you.”

She lifted her little hand and saluted him, and I noticed that it was after another fashion to that of the Kaffirs who lived thereabouts, after the Zulu fashion indeed.

“I hear your words, chief,” she said, “and I stay.  Though I be but a lizard in the thatch, yet the nest of the Swallow shall be my nest, and in the fangs of the lizard, Sihamba, there is poison and woe to the hawk of the air or the snake of the grass that would rob this nest wherein you dwell.  Listen now to my oath—­you whom she loves.  Cold shall this heart be and stiff this hand, empty shall this head be of thoughts and these eyes of sight, before shame or death shall touch the swift wings of yonder Swallow who stained her breast for me.  Remember this always, you whom she loves, that while I live, I, Sihamba Ngenyanga, Sihamba the walker by moonlight, she shall live, and if she dies I will die also.”

Then once more she saluted and went, leaving us wondering, for we saw that this woman was not altogether as other Kaffirs are, and it came into our minds that in the time of need she would be as is a sharp spear in the hand of one who is beset with foes.