“No—no,” said Edala, shaking a warning finger, as she saw the other on the verge of a breakdown—her own eyes were dimming suspiciously. “We haven’t got to do that, you know. We’ve got to prove to ourselves that the old libel—only it isn’t a libel—that the first thing women do in a difficulty is to howl, has its exceptions.”
“Yes—yes. You are wonderful, Edala. I could not have believed that any girl could show the coolness and pluck you have shown. What’s the next thing to do?”
“Do? Anything—everything rather than sit still and think. To-morrow early, we’ll start for Kwabulazi.”
“Yes. Let’s. But now—do you think any of those horrible brutes will come here again to-night?”
“No—I don’t. Those weren’t our own people, you know, Evelyn, as I told you. I’m not sure, quite, what to do. If we weren’t safe at Tongwana’s I don’t know where we shall be. So well start early so as to get there before it’s hot. But—I forgot. Can you walk? It’s thirteen miles every inch, and all our horses are gone.”
“Yes. I think I can. At any rate I shall have to.”
“Well we’ll shut the shutters so that no light will leak out if there are any wandering gangs about. Come along and help me, Evelyn. We can’t walk thirteen miles—we two feeble females—on nothing, you know.”
The other saw the drift. Both were to be kept busy. There must be no time for thinking. It may be that each saw into the other’s mind.
Soon a fire was started in the kitchen, and coffee brewed.
“I wonder what has become of Ramasam,” said Edala, when they sat down to their meal. “He’s an awful coward, and must have bolted with the others. Yet, I wonder how they first got the alarm. If it wasn’t that old Patolo is as reliable as death I should have thought that he had cleared out all the cattle and goats, for decidedly someone has.”