houlder bloody, its eyes staring, its red nostrils
agape, and perched upon its bare back a little woman who swayed from
side to side as though with weariness, holding in her hand a shattered
wand.

"Allemachter!" cried Jan. "It is Sihamba, and the witch rides my roan
_schimmel_!"

By this time Sihamba herself was upon us. "Back," she screamed as she
came, "death waits you in the pass;" whereon, compelled to it as it were
by the weight of the words and the face of she who spoke them, we turned
our horses' heads and galloped after the _schimmel_ for the half of a
mile or more till we were safe in the open veldt.

Then of a sudden the horse stopped, whether of its own accord or because
its rider pulled upon the reins I know not. At the least it stood there
trembling like a reed and Sihamba lay upon its back clinging to the
mane, and as she lay I saw blood running down her legs, for her skin was
chafed to the flesh beneath. Ralph sprang to her and lifted her to the
ground and Suzanne made her take a draught of peach brandy from Jan's
flask, which brought the life to her face again.

"Now," she said, "if you have it to spare, give the _schimmel_ yonder
a drink of that stuff, for he has saved all your lives and I think he
needs it."

"That is a wise word," said Jan, and he bade Ralph and the Kaffirs pour
the rest of the spirit down the horse's throat, which they did, thereby,
as I believe, saving its life, for until it had swallowed it the beast
looked as though its heart were about to burst.

"Now," said Jan, "why do you ride my best horse to death in this
fashion?"

"Have I not told you, father of Swallow," she answered, "that it was
to save you from death? But a few minutes over an hour ago, fifteen
perhaps, a word was spoken to me at your stead yonder and now I am here,
seven leagues away, having ridden faster than I wish to ride again,
or than any other horse in this country can travel with a man upon its
back."

"To save us from death! What death?" asked Jan astounded.

"Death at the hands of Swart Piet and his Kaffir tribesmen for the three
of you and the two slaves, and for the fourth, the lady Swallow there,
a love which she does not seek, the love of the murderer of her father,
her mother, and her chosen."

Now we stared at each other; only Suzanne ran to Sihamba, and putting
her arms about her, she kissed her.

"Nay," said the little woman smiling, "nay, Swallow, I do but repay to
you one-hundredth p