They were cut off.
A couple of minutes later Robert joined her, and as he came she looked
at him anxiously in the growing light. He seemed older than when
they had parted on the _Zanzibar_; changed, too, for now his face was
serious, and he had grown a beard; also, he appeared to limp.
"I am afraid there is an end," she said, pointing to the Matabele below.
"Yes, it looks like it. But like you, I say, what does it matter now?"
and he took her hand in his, adding: "let us be happy while we can if
only for a few minutes. They will be here presently."
"What are you?" she asked. "A prisoner?"
"That's it. I was following you when they captured me; for I have been
here before and knew the way. They were going to kill me on general
principles, only it occurred to one of them who was more intelligent
than the rest that I, being a white man, might be able to show them how
to storm the place. Now I was sure that you were there, for I saw you
standing on that point, though they thought you were the Spirit of
Bambatse. So I wasn't anxious to help them, for then--you know what
happens when the Matabele are the stormers! But--as you still lived--I
wasn't anxious to die either. So I set them to work to dig a hole with
their assegais and sharp axes, through granite.
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