he
left showed him that the masses of the Undi barred that way, so he fled
straight on, leaving his path to fortune. In five minutes he was over a
ridge, and there was nothing of the battle to be seen, in ten all
sounds of it had died away, for few guns were fired in the dread race
to Fugitive's Drift, and the assegai makes no noise. In some strange
fashion, even at this moment, the contrast between the dreadful scene of
blood and turmoil that he had left, and the peaceful face of Nature over
which he was passing, came home to his brain vividly. Here birds sang
and cattle grazed; here the sun shone undimmed by the smoke of cannon,
only high up in the blue and silent air long streams of vultures could
be seen winging their way to the Plain of Isandhlwana.

The ground was very rough, and Hadden's horse began to tire. He looked
over his shoulder--there some two hundred yards behind came the Zulu,
grim as Death, unswerving as Fate. He examined the pistol in his belt;
there was but one undischarged cartridge left, all the rest had been
fired and the pouch was empty. Well, one bullet should be enough for
one savage: the question was should he stop and use it now? No, he might
miss or fail to kill the man; he was on horseback and his foe on foot,
surely he could tire him out.

A while passed, and they dashed through a little stream. It seemed
familiar to Hadden. Yes, that was the pool where he used to bathe when
he was the guest of Umgona, the father of Nanea; and there on the knoll
to his right were the huts, or rather the remains of them, for they
had been burnt with fire. What chance had brought him to this place, he
wondered; then again he looked behind him at Nahoon, who seemed to read
his thoughts, for he shook his spear and pointed to the ruined kraal.

On he went at speed for here the land was level, and to his joy he lost
sight of his pursuer. But presently there came a mile of rocky ground,
and when it was past, glancing back he saw that Nahoon was once more in
his old place. His horse's strength was almost spent, but Hadden spurred
it forward blindly, whither he knew not. Now he was travelling along a
strip of turf and ahead of him he heard the music of a river, while to
his left rose a high bank. Presently the turf bent inwards and there,
not twenty yards away from him, was a Kaffir hut standing on the brink
of a river. He looked at it, yes, it was the hut of that accursed
_inyanga_, the Bee, and standing by the