This he said out of sheer devilment, and he was rewarded, for if ever a human countenance betrayed disgust, repressed wrath, baffled scheming, all at once, that countenance belonged to Susie Bateman at that moment Nidia came to the rescue.
“You have not told us your adventures yet,” she said. “I want to know all that happened since you left me. I only hope none of these tiresome men will come in and interrupt.”
All that happened! He could not tell her all, for he had pledged his word to the Umlimo. The latter had predicted that he would meet with every temptation to violate that pledge, and here was one of them. No, not even to her could he reveal all. But he told her of his fall from the dwala, his unconsciousness, and, leaving out that strange and startling experience, he went on to tell her what the reader has yet to learn—how he awoke in the broad light of day to find himself surrounded by armed natives, friendly to himself, however, who, of course, acting under orders from the Umlimo, had escorted him to within safe distance of Bulawayo.
Unconsciously their tones—he narrating, she commenting upon the narrative—became soft. Their glances, too, seemed to say something more than words. Both, in fact, were back again in imagination, roaming the wilds together, alone. They seemed to lose themselves in the recollection, oblivious of the presence of a third party.
The said third party, however, was by no means oblivious of them. Her ear weighed every tone, her keen eye noted every glance, every expression, and she grew proportionately venomous. Yet, looking at the man, she could hardly wonder at Nidia’s preference, and the uncomfortable consciousness was forced upon her that whoever might be the object of it, this man or any other, her own feeling would be just the same—one of acute powerless jealousy, to wit, that any should ever stand before herself in her darling’s preferences.
“Don’t go,” said Nidia, putting forth a hand to detain him, for his story had run on late, and he was rising with an apology. “Stay and have dinner with us. It’s siege fare, but even then a little more varied than our precarious ration under the rocks—not that one did not positively enjoy that at the time,” she added with a laugh. He joined in.
“Did you? I’m sure I did. Considering we were without any adjuncts, your cooking was marvellous, Nidia.”
“Nidia” again! Heavens! It had come to that, then! Susie Bateman’s hair nearly rose on end.
“Well, you shall see if it is any better now,” went on the girl, airily. “Oh, I do hope none of those stupid men will drop in. I want to have a nice long talk.”
“You haven’t found them so stupid up till now, Nidia,” struck in Susie Bateman. “Why, there isn’t an evening some of them haven’t been in to cheer us up.”