Swiftly she sprang to him, and, aided by Zinti, dragged him to dry ground.

“Alas! lady,” moaned the Kaffir, “it is of no use, the Baas is dead.  Look, he has been shot.”

Taking no heed of the words, Sihamba opened Ralph’s garments, placing first her hand, then her ear, upon his heart.  Presently she lifted her head, a light of hope shining in her eyes, and said: 

“Nay, he lives, and we have found him in time.  Moreover, his wound is not to death.  Now help me, for between us we must bear him up the cliff.”

So Zinti took him on his back as a man takes a sack of flour, while Sihamba supported his legs, and thus between them, with great toil, for the way was very steep, they carried him by a sloping buck’s path to the top of the precipice, and laid him upon the mule.

“Which way now?” gasped Zinti, for being strong he had borne the weight.

“To the waggon if they have not yet stolen it,” said Sihamba, and thither they went.

When they were near she crept forward, searching for Swart Piet and his gang, but there were no signs of them, only she saw the driver and his companion nodding by the fire.  She walked up to them.

“Do you then sleep, servants of Kenzie,” she said, “while the Swallow is borne away to the Hawk’s Nest and the husband of Swallow, your master, is cast by Bull-Head back into the sea whence he came?”

Now the men woke up and knew her.  “Look, it is Sihamba,” stammered one of them to the other, for he was frightened.  “What evil thing has happened, Lady Sihamba?”

“I have told you, but your ears are shut.  Come then and see with your eyes,” and she led them to where Ralph lay in his blood, the water yet dripping from his hair and clothes.

“Alas! he is dead,” they groaned and wrung their hands.

“He is not dead, he will live; for while you slept I found him,” she answered.  “Swift now, bring me the waggon box that is full of clothes, and the blankets off the cartel.”

They obeyed her, and very quickly and gently—­for of all doctors Sihamba was the best—­with their help she drew off his wet garments, and, having dried him and dressed his wounds with strips of linen, she put a flannel shirt upon him and wrapped him in blankets.  Then she poured brandy into his mouth, but, although the spirit brought a little colour into his pale face, it did not awaken him, for his swoon was deep.

“Lay him on the cartel in the waggon,” she said, and, lifting him, they placed him upon the rimpi bed.  Then she ordered them to inspan the waggon, and this was done quickly, for the oxen lay tied to the trek-tow.  When all was ready she spoke to the two men, telling them what had happened so far as she knew it, and adding these words: