"
"Go where?" asked the bewildered Robert.
"To the top of the mountain, of course, whence I came. Oh! please don't
stop to question me, I'll tell you as we walk. Stay," and she called
to the Zulu driver, who with an air of utter amazement was engaged in
milking one of the gift cows, to fill two bottles with the milk.
"Had we not better shout to the Makalanga to let us in?" suggested
Robert, while this was being done, and Benita wrapped some cooked meat
in a cloth.
"No, no. They will think I am what I said I was--the Witch of Bambatse,
whose appearance heralds misfortune, and fear a trap. Besides, we could
not climb the top wall. You must follow my road, and if you can trust
them, bring two of those men with you with lanterns. The lad can stop to
herd the cattle."
Three minutes later, followed by the two Zulus, they were walking--or
rather, running--along the banks of the Zambesi.
"Why do you not come quicker?" she asked impatiently. "Oh, I beg your
pardon, you are lame. Robert, what made you lame, and oh! why are you
not dead, as they all swore you were, you, you--hero, for I know that
part of the story?"
"For a very simple reason, Benita: because I didn't die. When that
Kaffir took the watch from me I was insensible, that's all.
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